


A Dangerous Partnership

by iamasecret



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Anxiety, Child Soldiers, Dancing, Enemies to Lovers, Everyone Has Issues, F/F, F/M, Friends to Enemies, Hurt/Comfort, I'm so sorry, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Manipulation, Military Training, Oblivious Adora (She-Ra), Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scorpia gives great hugs, Serious Injuries, Shadow Weaver is the Worst, Slow Burn, Slow Dancing, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Suicidal Thoughts, but they're figuring it out okay, more hurt now means more comfort later
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 19:53:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24951121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iamasecret/pseuds/iamasecret
Summary: Everyone is born with a number on their wrist, from 1-10. The Horde interprets this number as a rating of how dangerous each person is and uses it to find their best potential soldiers. But outside of the Horde, this number is interpreted a little differently.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra), Angella & Glimmer (She-Ra), Angella/Micah (She-Ra), Bow/Glimmer (She-Ra)
Comments: 272
Kudos: 931





	1. prologue

Hordak triple-checked the coordinates he’d entered into the skiff’s navigational system. They still seemed to be correct. He had only minutes more of the freezing night air pushing through the holes in his wrists, only minutes of dodging through this empty, abandoned wasteland, before he’d finally be there. And maybe this time it had worked—maybe Horde Prime would be waiting for him with open arms, ready to accept him back into the fold. Maybe. 

He saw something in the distance. His heart picked up— _could it be?_ And as he got closer, he _knew—_ the energy readings had been correct—there was indeed a black, whirling portal at the coordinates. But the closer he got, the smaller it got; the portal was closing fast. 

He sped up, growling at the portal that _it couldn’t close, not after all this time_ —but the skiff raced through where the portal used to be with no effect, leaving Hordak in the backwater, abandoned, _godforsaken_ Etheria.

He swore, looking around—maybe Horde Prime had sent him a package, or a message at least—he heard a faint cry coming from where the portal had disappeared. He slid down from the skiff, his eyes squinted, ears tilting towards the source of the cry. 

There was a tiny bundle on the ground, not even as long as Hordak’s forearm. He breathed in quickly—had Horde Prime sent him a clone to raise for himself, as a signal that he was still worthy? He bent down to carefully pick up the bundle, and he pulled the green blanket down from the child’s head. 

Blonde hair—but not white, a pale forehead—but not white, and light blue eyes—not green, were revealed. _Not a clone_ , Hordak thought passively, hope leaving him. _A human child._ He carelessly brought the child closer to his chest, some part of him needing to protect it from the freezing winds, and the child stopped its cries. A tiny hand made its way out of the bundle, reaching for Hordak’s face. He leaned away from it, annoyed. 

But something on the child’s arm caught his eye. He caught the arm with his other hand as the child waved at his face again, and turned the child’s wrist so its forearm was easily visible. He blinked in surprise. _A 9_. Hordak himself had only a 9 on his forearm. Not even Shadow Weaver had attained a 9—she had been stuck at 7 for as long as she had been his second-in-command. 

He smiled to himself. _Tonight hasn’t been a complete waste_ , he thought, as he remounted his skiff and entered the coordinates for the Fright Zone, still cradling the child close to his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!
> 
> It's been a while since I've written anything, but I've always loved soulmate AU's and couldn't resist after watching She-Ra for the third time in a row :)
> 
> I could use a beta, if anybody is interested!
> 
> I plan to post at least once a week (and the other chapters are much longer than the prologue).


	2. training simulation

“Cadets! Attention!” Shouted the Force Captain. 

Adora snapped to attention, her feet together, right hand saluting, left hand straight down by her side. 

“Rest!”

Her hands moved behind her back, palms open, and her right foot automatically slid away from her left until her feet were shoulder width apart. 

“Today is an important day for all of us. Today is your final day of testing. You have all done these simulations before, but today…” 

Adora tuned out, letting her eyes slide off the Force Captain. The cadets all knew how important this day was, but they also knew that more important than their performance in the simulation was the number inked on their forearm. As Adora’s forearm held a 9—the highest of all the cadets the Horde had ever seen, as Shadow Weaver had told her since she was a child—she wasn’t worried about today’s simulations. 

To her left, in her peripheral vision, Adora could see the metallic red facemask and bright blue eye of her best friend. As Adora let her eyes drift over to look at Catra, still keeping her parade rest, she saw Catra’s blue eye glance in her direction as well. Adora felt Catra’s tail drift across her waist, sending tingles throughout her body. Adora moved her head the tiniest bit to send a glare her way, but Catra just smirked, staying in perfect parade rest. 

“...have high expectations for all of you,” continued the Force Captain, his eyes drifting over the short line of cadets, and coming to a rest on Catra, “and remind you all to do your best,” he finished, his eyes narrowing. “We remind you that your results from these tests will determine to a large degree the remainder of your careers within the Horde.” 

Adora saw Catra narrow her eyes at him, hissing softly. Most cadets kept their numbers hidden under a wristband, in some attempt to let them be judged by their overall merits rather than their number. But Adora knew that under Catra’s thin, black wristband, written in pure black ink, was a beautifully scripted 8. 

So while this Force Captain—and indeed, all the Force Captains, and even Shadow Weaver herself—got on Catra’s back for underperforming, Adora knew that Catra would be okay. Catra was one of only a couple of cadets who were even rumoured to have an 8, and so her performance in the simulation mattered very little, if at all. So Adora turned her head a little more, grinning at Catra, and Catra turned to smirk at her.

“Alright! Let’s go through your teams,” the Force Captain shouted, finally jerking his eyes away from Catra.

“As if our teams are supposed to be a surprise?” Catra whispered harshly towards Adora, who turned slightly and let out a short laugh. 

While the Horde didn’t permit soldiers to expose their forearms, they had been split into teams at the age of five based loosely on their numbers. Their team had changed a little since then, but everyone knew that Adora’s team was the cream of the crop—they’d even been nicknamed, amongst other less-flattering names, “The Dream Team.” 

They’d done everything in these teams for _what_ , Adora thought _, has it been thirteen years now? Wow._

So when the Force Captain began listing names with “Adora, Catra, Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle, you’re team number one”—Adora wasn’t at all surprised, and even felt the urge to join Catra in rolling her eyes at the broad man facing them. 

They followed the Force Captain’s pointing arm to the first of several simulation rooms branching off from the circular meeting room, Adora in the lead, Catra immediately behind her, and the rest trailing behind. The metal door rolled shut from the top behind them, releasing pressurized gas as it did so, leaving them in almost complete darkness. 

Adora took a deep breath and released it, reaching out to the weapons rack she knew was just to the left of the door. Her hand closed quickly on the handle of a staff, and she held it in front of her, weighing it. _Good_. She slid it into her belt, and reached back for a long-distance stun rifle. She found the strap, and slung it across her back. 

She heard Catra grab a stun rifle as well, heard Lonnie pull out a sword—probably her preferred short sword—from the rack on the right, and figured that Rogelio and Kyle were probably about ready as well. 

Turning her head slightly over her shoulder, Adora whispered, “Radio silence until you’re attacked or find something.” She saw vague movements that must have been nodding.

So she looked forward again, put her hand above her shoulder so they could all see it, put three fingers up and waved them to the right wall, put two fingers up and waved them to the left, and began to move to the left. She felt Catra moving silently behind her. 

After ten meters or so, Adora felt Catra tug at her upper arm. She paused, and let Catra whisper into her ear. 

“There’s a structure in the middle of the room—I can scout from there.” 

Adora nodded and turned, letting the shadow that was Catra’s lithe, soundless body creep in front of her, leading her to the structure. 

Adora had only just been able to start making out the structure through the intense darkness surrounding them when Catra’s ears perked up, her whole body freezing. Adora froze as well. Years of experience had taught her that Catra’s senses were much better than her own, and if Catra heard something—

Catra tackled her, her hand covering Adora’s mouth, twisting them in midair so that Catra’s body would hit the ground first. They hit soundlessly, and Adora met Catra’s glowing eyes. Catra flicked her eyes back behind them—back from the edge of the room, where they’d come from—and Adora’s eyes followed, until—

Adora let a gasp of air out, and it slipped through Catra’s fingers. 

Catra glared at her. “Quiet,” she hissed, almost soundlessly.

They’d worked through all of the simulations before, but they’d never seen something quite this… _terrifying_. 

Drifting along the wall not thirty meters away from them were five— _six?—_ smoky figures, dark grey, vaguely humanoid, and with glowing white crowns on their heads.

 _Princesses_. 

They’d trained against robot-like princesses, against purpley hologram-like princesses, but this was so much different. The smoke was much more humanoid. Their faces almost had real, grotesque features. They moved with a grace that almost reminded Adora of Shadow Weaver, their long, smoky robes flowing behind them as they floated around the perimeter. 

_Why don’t the older cadets talk about this?_ Adora thought hopelessly. _I thought I was prepared… Is this what the princesses are really like? No wonder Shadow Weaver warned us about the Undead Princess, and the Weeping Princess, and—all those stories—_

Catra rolled them over, placing a hand on Adora’s sternum and pressing lightly. Adora realized that she’d been hyperventilating, a little bit, and took a second to calm her breathing. She nodded in thanks to Catra, who inclined her head the tiniest bit back. 

Catra’s eyes narrowed, and went back to the princesses. She stood up, pulling Adora with her, and whispered in her ear.

“Adora, we have to get the high ground. We need to use a ranged attack—there are too many of them.” 

Adora nodded, and followed as closely and quietly as she could, glancing back over her shoulder every few seconds at the smoky figures. Soon, all she could see of them was the glowing, white crowns.

Catra scaled the structure first. It was very precariously balanced: more a series of wooden and metal platforms connected with rope and chain than a building. Adora followed a little more slowly, glancing back at the princesses every time she reached a new platform. 

Finally, Adora saw Catra reach the highest platform, which, while it was thirty meters from the ground, was still only halfway to the ceiling. It was hanging from chains that clinked every time they moved, and poorly supported from below. 

Climbing the structure was just strenuous enough to be fun. Adora grabbed the chains on either side of Catra’s platform and used them to pull herself up, appreciating the slight burn in her upper body. As she pulled on the chains, the platform jostled a bit, causing Catra to fall to one knee and glare at her. Adora gained her footing, let go of the chains slowly as the platform righted itself, and grinned apologetically back.

They both turned towards the princesses once more—but they were gone. 

Catra put her hand up to her earpiece. “Lonnie, come in. We lost track of five grey princesses—they might be headed your way.” 

She took her hand slightly away from the earpiece, waiting for a response. But all they heard was static. 

Adora put her hand up. “Rogelio, Kyle, come in!”

Nobody responded. 

Catra’s eyes—still searching the area for the missing princesses—glanced at Adora in worry. 

And, right behind Catra, a blindingly white crown appeared. 

Adora’s hand went automatically to her belt, pulling out her staff’s handle and deploying one end right into the princess’ face. Catra’s ears flattened to her head, and her teeth bit into her lower lip, but otherwise, she didn’t move. 

The princess screamed, a shrill, mechanical sound, like two shredded edges of steel dragging slowly across one another. But the smoky body dissipated into the air. 

Adora brought her staff back in front of her, deploying the other end, and Catra finally spun around, glowing eyes searching. Again, neither of them could see anything. 

Catra looked at Adora and nodded, so Adora took her rifle from her back and laid down close to the edge of the platform, careful not to jostle it too much. She raised its scope to her eye, and flipped the dial on the side until the display turned green, allowing her to see silhouettes of objects in the dark. 

She slowly moved the rifle, starting at the entrance of the simulation room and sweeping it across. She could feel Catra standing guard over her, making sure they wouldn’t get caught that close to a princess again. But she had no luck with the first sweep, and told Catra so. 

Adora rose to her knees, turned 180º, laid back down on her front, held up by her elbows, and began sweeping the other side of the room, the side the other half of their team had been assigned to. She heard Catra’s voice echoing in her ear, a slight delay in the earpiece, as she tried to ping Lonnie again, but once again, they could hear only static in response. 

And then, almost in the opposite corner of the room, Adora saw it. Her quick intake of breath was enough to alert Catra that she’d seen something, but Adora tapped her hand twice on the platform to let Catra know that it wasn’t urgent. She zoomed in on the corner, and saw it even more clearly: Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle were all laying flat on the ground, each with a red “x” on the front of their armor. 

“Catra, Team 2 is down,” Adora whispered. “All of them.” 

Catra’s tail moved nervously, brushing against Adora’s shoulder. 

In the corner of her scope, Adora saw movement. She carefully moved her rifle millimeters to the side to see better. 

It was what seemed to be the entire army of princesses, mostly hidden behind a large metal structure. 

“I think they’re all over there,” Adora said quietly, looking up at Catra. 

Catra nodded, laying on her front just inches away from Adora. She slung the rifle from off her back and lined it up where Adora had pointed. 

“On three?” Catra asked. 

Adora nodded. “Three, two, one—”

And they began shooting. They pulled off as many shots as they could. While the princesses did have some sort of ranged attack—some kind of terrifyingly destructive lightning—it wasn’t very accurate, and they were far enough away to render it essentially useless. But their scopes made it easy enough shooting. 

After a minute, though, and maybe twenty fallen princesses, a lightning bolt managed to hit the chain closest to Adora. Adora felt the platform tilt, and her body began to roll. She dropped her rifle and scrambled to grab ahold of the broken chain, but it was too late. She was falling. 

She flipped in midair, trying to see where she was going—but right as she turned onto her front, she smacked heavily into another platform. This platform, too, immediately began to tilt from her weight, and she scrambled to hold onto something, anything—

But the platform was slick metal, and there were no handholds. She rolled off again, hit another platform, rolled off, slid, and finally landed on the solid ground. Her head was spinning, her ribs screaming, and her hands raw from scrabbling at unfinished wood and roughly cut metal. 

But she was alive, which was something. At thirty meters—she’d been lucky. 

“Adora?” She heard Catra’s voice—carefully hiding her worry, but Adora could tell—from her earpiece. 

Adora struggled to raise her arm to her ear. “Hey, Catra. I’m all right, I think.” 

“Hang on, I’m coming down. They’re not moving in on you yet, but it’s only a matter of time.” 

Adora sat up slowly, looking around her. She saw movement out of the corner of her right eye, but when she turned her head to trace it, there was nothing there. 

_I don’t like this_ , Adora thought. 

She heard something off to the left, but when she turned and got up to her knees to see what it was, she saw nothing. 

_I really don’t like this._

The platform above her creaked, and Adora kept her eyes on it and began to move slowly away from it, still on her hands and knees. 

Her foot ran into something, and she turned back, startled—

It was a princess, pointing a sword right at Adora’s face. 

Adora pulled out her staff, quickly deployed one side of it, and pushed the sword away. The princess took a step closer, and Adora scrambled to her feet. The sword swung again at her face, and she ducked, although her ribs were definitely not happy with it. The sword swung again, and Adora parried it quickly, wood chips flying off of her staff. Again and again, the princess swung, not taking a second between attacks, and again and again, it was all Adora could do to dodge and parry. 

Finally, the princess backed Adora into the wall of the room, and swung the sword at her midsection. Adora blocked it, barely, and her staff cracked into three pieces, leaving her with just the handle. The princess put the sword to Adora’s throat, and Adora closed her eyes. 

She had failed. 

She heard a hiss in front of her—like air slowly leaving a balloon—and cracked her eyes open. In front of her were four smoky segments of princess, torn apart by— _Catra!_

Catra’s claws were out, her eyes wild and angry, teeth bared, as she continued to slice at the smoke. When the smoke was finally so dissipated that it was impossible to tell what it had once been, Catra turned to Adora. 

Adora had slumped to the ground, head in her hands. She hadn’t been able to do it. She was supposed to be the best, but even she couldn’t beat one lousy princess in combat. She’d needed Catra’s help. Her head pounded, and her ribs complained. 

She felt a hand on the side of her face, and looked up. Catra was kneeling down in front of her, looking at her, her eyes still a little wild, but her snarl gone. Her tail wrapped soothingly around Adora’s ankle.

“Hey, Adora,” Catra said lowly. “Let’s get up, huh? We’re not quite done here. We’ll fix you up after.” 

Adora felt her resolve harden slightly. She nodded at Catra, giving her the tiniest of smiles.

Catra carefully pulled Adora to her feet, and they looked around them. With their backs to the wall, they were at least safe from one direction. But they could see that there were at least five princesses that hadn’t been hit by their rifles from earlier that had honed in on their position. 

Catra handed Adora her stun rifle and crouched down a couple of meters in front of her, claws unsheathed. It was a tactic they’d used before; they were pretty equally matched in hand-to-hand combat, and both great sharpshooters, but when one of them was injured, it was best for the other to take care of the closer range combat. 

Adora sighted the nearest of the princesses and shot, the whistling noise of the stun dart flying over Catra’s shoulder and striking the princess in the chest. The princess dissipated, and Adora sighted the next one—but it was too close to Catra for a safe shot, so she shot at its outstretched arm. Catra ducked the princess’ swipe and clawed through its midsection. 

But the three remaining princess were on them. Two went for Catra, and one headed straight for Adora. It was almost like they had pegged Catra as the bigger threat—but they shouldn’t have been able to figure that out—

The princess was on her, and she turned the safety on her rifle and spun it, holding it by the barrel. She swung the butt of the rifle towards the princess’ head, only for the princess to raise its hand faster than seemed possible and grab the handle. 

The princess ripped the rifle out of her hands, the momentum pulling Adora off-balance. She stumbled forward, and the princess hit her on the back of the head, hard. Adora’s vision flickered, but she couldn’t give up. Not yet. Not when Catra was just in front of her, barely holding her own. 

So Adora pushed herself up off the ground, put all her weight on her hands and swung her legs around, sweeping through the legs of the princess. It fell to the ground, smoky feet disappearing, and as it rolled over onto its front, Adora jumped up, grabbed Catra’s rifle, and shot it point blank. 

She turned back just in time to see Catra get knocked to the ground by the last princess. She whipped the rifle to her shoulder and fired. The princess dissolved into smoke.

The lights in the simulation room flickered on. 

Adora blinked, trying to adjust from the pitch darkness to the stabbing, fluorescent lights. She sat on the ground, exhausted, ribs _aching,_ and saw Catra collapse completely to the ground, unmoving. She crawled over, and saw the other half of their team rounding the corner of the structure of the center of the room. 

Catra’s eyes blinked open, staring up at Adora. “Hey,” she rasped. “We did it.” 

Adora laughed, exhausted. She laid down next to Catra, and they waited for the rest of the team to join them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> shoutout to my new beta, womenlovingwonderwoman :) the reason this is up so early, the reason it's legible, and probably the reason I'll feel good enough about it to keep writing!


	3. graduation

They stumbled out of the simulation room, Adora leaning her weight on Lonnie, Rogelio largely carrying Kyle, Catra limping behind them. They were a sorry sight, all completely disheveled and dripping sweat. Adora’s hair poof had come mostly undone, her bangs sticking to her face. 

“ _Seriously_ , Kyle,” Lonnie muttered, glancing back at his limp body. “If only he’d…” she trailed off, looking at Rogelio, who nodded knowingly back. 

While Adora had somehow not taken a hit from the princesses in her chest plate, thus avoiding the red “x” that would have put her out of the game, her chest plate had cracked from her fall. Lonnie and Rogelio were mostly unhurt, although Lonnie was developing a nasty black eye. Kyle seemed to have injured every part of his body, and every part of him was slowly darkening into a bruise. And Catra had, at the very end of the simulation, managed to twist her ankle in an otherwise impressive dodging maneuver. 

The other cadets lined up in the hallways as they saw the team approaching. They whispered to one another. Adora heard, “did you see—” “—score the most points—” “—supposed to be _her_ —” but her head was too cloudy with pain and adrenaline to process. 

Lonnie finally tugged Adora through the automatic sliding doors to the medical wing, ducking out from under her arm so she could lay down on one of the cots. Immediately, a medic, dressed in a white top and red pants, approached the bed. He ran his scanner over Adora’s head and torso, and nodded to himself. 

“You’ve done quite a number on yourself, Cadet,” the medic told her sternly. “Two fractured ribs, and a mild concussion. It’ll be at least a month before you’re in full form again.” 

Adora sighed, nodding. She’d suspected a similar diagnosis, based on the pain levels, but it still sucked. A month of less training meant a month of boredom. She turned to look over at her teammates and saw Catra to her right, sitting on the edge of the bed, staring lazily around the wing, waiting for a medic. Kyle was laid out on the bed to her left, a few medics huddled around him. 

The doors to the wing slid open, Shadow Weaver gliding silently through. She drifted to the foot of Adora’s bed. “Adora.” She said, in her slow, melodic voice. “Congratulations.” 

“Thank you, Shadow Weaver,” Adora said, struggling to sit up. 

“Don’t strain yourself on my account, Adora. I only came to congratulate you on your team’s win.”

“Thank you—”

“And Catra,” Shadow Weaver continued, turning to Catra’s bed, “you surprised me. Despite your generally low scores on previous simulations, you managed to do quite well on this one.” 

Catra glanced up, blushing slightly. “Yeah, well,” she muttered, looking back down as a medic began to scan her ankle. 

Adora grinned over at Catra.

“Here are your scores,” Shadow Weaver said, turning back to Adora. She handed over a sealed envelope. “Your Force Captain will see you later today with your permanent assignments.” She paused, still looking at Adora, inhaling deeply as though she was going to rebuke Adora for something, but instead she spun around and swept back out of the wing.

The team gathered around Adora—except Kyle, who was still surrounded by the bustling medics. They had just begun hooking him up to several scary-looking machines. He'd be okay—he always was, somehow.

Adora opened the envelope, sliding out the single sheet of paper. On it was printed a small table, showing their names, number of kills, injury ratings, and final scores.

For maybe the fourth time ever, Adora’s name wasn’t at the top of the list. While she’d had the most kills out of anyone—14 to Catra’s 12, Rogelio’s 9, Lonnie’s 7, and Kyle’s 4—she’d also lost four points because of her injuries, leaving her with 10. Catra had only lost one for her sprained ankle, so—

“Catra! That’s—amazing!” Adora gushed, smile wide, masking her disappointment. 

Catra’s name sat proudly at the top of the list, with a final score of 11. Adora’s sat immediately beneath, with a final score of 10. 

Catra looked away, tail curling around her own ankle. “Whatever,” she muttered. “Not like it mattered anyways.” 

But Adora knew how much this really meant for Catra. When they were younger, Catra had gotten so used to coming in second to Adora that she became kind of apathetic to the whole competition thing. A win like this—especially on the most important simulation of their lives—would be important to Catra. And while Adora was definitely upset that she hadn’t won—she had _failed_ , and she was supposed to be the _best—_ Catra definitely needed this win more than her. 

So she smiled again at Catra, and handed the paper off to Rogelio, who held it where he and Lonnie could see it. They began discussing their scores in a combination of English, grunts, and sign language. Adora watched them. 

Rogelio gestured at his arm, grunting. 

“I know!” Lonnie stormed. “You’d think that Kyle would be able to do more, with the number he’s got on his arm, but somehow—you always seem to do so much better than him, and you—”

Rogelio grunted in response, nodding emphatically. 

After a minute, Catra crept over to sit on the edge of Adora’s bed. 

“I’m going to sleep for a week,” Catra grumbled. 

Adora stifled a laugh, her ribs spasming in protest. 

There was a moment of silence, Catra picking at her claws. 

“Congratulations,” Adora blurted out. “You did really well in there. And thank you, for, you know.” 

“Yeah,” Catra breathed. “Thanks, but… it’s weird. I’m not supposed to be… you know.” 

“Yeah,” Adora echoed. 

Catra looked away, clearly at a loss for words. 

“Well, that was terrifying,” Adora finally said. “I didn’t know it was supposed to be so…” 

“I wonder if that’s what the real war is like,” Catra added, nodding. “I wonder if that’s what the princesses are supposed to be like.” 

Adora shuddered. “I really hope not. I mean, I knew they were bad, but that was just… awful.” 

Catra nodded again, something hiding behind her eyes. 

Adora had felt the effects of the smoky princesses herself. She’d felt the fear that seemed to sweep with them into the simulation room. She’d felt the cool air that made up their ethereal bodies. She’d heard their screeching death cries. Through all that, Catra had stayed remarkably level-headed. But now… 

“We’ve got the day off, cadets. Lonnie and Rogelio, you’re dismissed,” Adora interjected into their conversation. 

Lonnie glared at her, but grabbed Rogelio by the arm as they walked out of the medical wing.

Adora patted the bed next to her, scooting over gingerly. Catra glanced around. There were only medics in the wing now, and Kyle, who wasn’t in any state to pay them any attention. So Catra laid down carefully on her back next to Adora, and let the back of her hand brush against the side of Adora’s thigh. 

They laid together, just breathing, processing. Adora's heartbeat was loud in her ears, her eyes caught by even the slightest movement in the room. 

After a few minutes, Catra rolled over to face Adora. “What’re you hoping to get?” She asked quietly. 

“Force Captain,” Adora said immediately, dragging her eyes away from the tree branch caught in the wind at the window. “As always. And you?”

Catra thought for a minute. “I think it’d be cool to be Force Captain. It’s the only assignment with any real prospects, y'know? But we wouldn’t be on the same team any more.” 

Adora hummed in agreement, thinking.

“You’d be a good Force Captain,” she whispered, finally.

Catra nodded sleepily, her nose pushing against Adora’s shoulder. 

Adora tried to sync her breathing with Catra's, tried to relax her shoulders, tried to ignore the movement around them. It helped.

Eventually Adora must have fallen asleep, somehow, because she startled awake to a loud, “Cadets! Attention!” 

They sprang up, saluting. 

Adora winced immediately, feeling the urge to double over, but stayed at attention. A medic rushed to her side, pushing her back into the bed. She glared at him, but was in too much pain to really argue. She stared back at the Force Captain, holding her breath— 

What was it going to be?

“Your assignments, cadets,” the man said, handing them each an envelope. 

Adora nodded, staring down at the white envelope, trembling in her grasp. She heard the man leave, but didn’t move. She saw Catra’s hand move from her own envelope to just above Adora’s knee, resting for just a second before moving back. Adora nodded, not looking up, letting out a breath, and carefully tore open the envelope. 

There were a lot of words printed on the paper, but two words jumped out at Adora. 

_Force Captain._

The badge slid out of the envelope onto her lap.

She heard Catra hiss from her seat on the bed next to her, and looked over. 

Catra’s paper was significantly longer than her own, but near the top was the assignation: 

_Counterintelligence Agent._

_Wow,_ Adora thought. _Sounds fancy._ “What’s that mean?” She asked Catra, who scoffed at her. 

“It’s like, a spy, I think,” Catra sighed. “Which is, like, cool, but…” 

“Not what you wanted,” Adora said, nodding. “Yeah, I get it. Let’s read your letter though, see what it’s about!” 

It turned out that a counterintelligence agent was, indeed, like a spy. Catra was assigned to work under Force Captain Octavia, which worried Adora. Octavia had hated Catra for years—for good reason—but still. 

“Well, God knows that I’ll be a better spy than you’d ever be,” Catra said finally, shoulders still tight. 

“Hey!” Adora gasped, even though it was true. “Rude.” She nudged Catra’s shoulder with her own. 

Catra gave a tiny smile. 

_Well_ , Adora thought, _this is going to be an adventure for both of us._

That night, Adora was finally released from the medical wing, with a bottle of painkillers and strict instructions not to train at all, and to come back for a checkup at the end of the week. Catra left with her, still vibrating with an anxious energy. 

They went back to their bunks to drop off their stuff before dinner. It was the grey stuff, as a celebration for graduation day from training. 

On their way back from dinner, Adora glanced over at Catra. “You go on ahead,” she told her, turning off to a side corridor. “I’ve got something to do really fast.” 

Catra squinted at her, eyebrows furrowed, but nodded, continuing on towards the bunks.

Adora strolled down the hallway, whistling what she hoped was a non-suspicious tune, eyes darting around, searching. She leaned against the wall before the next intersection, and, continuing to whistle, stuck her head quickly around the corner. Her ponytail smacked her in face, and she hissed at it, annoyed—but the hallway was empty, and as she strained her ears, she could hear nothing. So she rounded the corner and slid along the wall. 

About halfway down the corridor, there was a door marked “Force Captains Only.” Adora knelt down in front of it, checking one more time that nobody was coming, and laid on the ground, turning her head to look through the crack between the door and the concrete floor. The room was pitch black. 

Pushing herself back up, Adora slid the two bobby pins that were keeping her bangs up out of her hair. She bent one of them up at the end, slid the bent end of the first pin and the straight end of the other into the lock, and pushed the hooked end around, working one tumbler at a time. Finally, the last tumbler clicked into place. She smirked, turning the handle of the door. As the door slid quietly open, Adora let out a laugh, ribs protesting emphatically—and spun around, dismayed. Fortunately, the hallway was still empty. 

Adora shut and locked the door behind her, flipping on the light. There, hanging by the door, was the key ring. She hooked the ring on her finger, spun it around, and slid it into her pocket. After flicking the light back off, she lowered herself to the ground and looked under the door into the hallway. All clear. She scrambled up, opened the door, slid back out into the hallway, and shut it quietly behind her. 

As she walked away, she slid the wrecked bobby pins into her pocket and swung her arms high, whistling the same tune as earlier. She was almost there.

“Cadet! Attention!” 

Adora spun around, almost smacking herself in the face with the speed of her salute, whistle trailing off. 

The pair of guards looked down at her. Through the transparent visors on their helmets, she saw their eyes flick down to her brand new badge. 

“Apologies, Force Captain,” the one on the left said, inclining his head. “We thought you were—” 

Adora put on her best commanding voice. It rang false, even to her. “No problem. Just… be on your way.” She saluted again, dumbly. 

They continued their sweep, and Adora turned away from them, grimacing. _I have to get better at that,_ she thought, returning quickly to the bunks. 

Catra was laying on the bottom bunk, legs up, twirling her own hair around her finger. 

“You wanna get out of here?” Adora asked her, grinning, spinning the key around her finger. 

After some much higher quality sneaking, thanks to Catra, they stood together on the skiff, Adora steering them carefully away from the mangled, metal buildings of the Fright Zone. Adora glanced over to Catra quickly, wary of looking away from their path for too long. Catra’s ears were close to her head, her teeth bared. 

“You okay?” Adora asked. 

Catra nodded, jaw set. 

“Sure?” 

“Yes.” Catra snarled, folding her arms tightly across her chest. 

Adora glanced at her again, unconvinced. 

“Don’t you get it, Adora?” Catra finally snapped. “Shadow Weaver has been out to get me since day one, and now she and Octavia are gonna make my life hell, and—”

Adora gaped at her, slowing the skiff down. 

“And you get to move up in the world, because you always do, and I’m stuck _here—_ ” Catra stopped herself, flexing her fingers as her claws unsheathed, running them angrily through her hair. 

Adora nodded knowingly—although she really didn’t know. Shadow Weaver only wanted what was best for the Horde, and if that meant that Catra wasn’t a Force Captain, but Adora was—her brow furrowed. “Yeah. But… I was hoping you could be happy for me?”

Catra rolled her eyes. “Ugh, it’s not like I even care. I just wanna get out of this dump at some point before I die of boredom.” She reached over, pushing Adora away from the skiff’s steering stick. “I wanna drive.” 

“I’m driving.” 

“Just let me have control over something in my life for once, okay, Adora?” 

Adora stepped back, worried, her palms up in surrender. “Sorry?” Sometimes she really _got_ Catra, like during the simulation, but other times… 

Catra bared her teeth at Adora, but there was no longer any anger behind it. She just pushed the stick forward, recklessly speeding them towards the woods. 

Adora yelled at her to slow down, but Catra wasn’t having it. They went faster and faster, coming closer and closer to hitting the trees, until Adora eventually lost her balance and fell completely out of the skiff. 

“Adora!” 

For the second time in less than a day, Adora fell. Branches whipped past her face, none large enough to hold her weight. Fortunately, there was a pile of leaves right where she’d fallen, so she didn’t think she’d fractured any more ribs. But _damn, that hurt._

She rolled over onto her back, groaning, clutching her ribs. She began to sit up, and saw a light in front of her, and in the light, a sword— _huh?_

She stood up slowly, walking to the sword, entranced. “Cool,” she breathed, reaching out to touch the sword. When her hand made contact, she saw a bright light—heard a voice—a baby crying?—she heard her name—

“Adora!” 

Adora opened her eyes. Catra’s eyes floated in front of her.

“Catra?” As Adora sat up, Catra leaned back, putting her weight back onto Adora’s legs, putting her hand on Adora’s back, supporting her. 

Adora’s hand went to her head. _Ow. Wait, what did I just—what—_

“Catra, there was a sword!” Adora remembered, pointing. 

Catra turned to look. “Adora, you have a concussion, and you just hit your head again. There’s nothing over there.” 

“No, I swear, there was—” 

But Catra was right; there wasn’t anything there. _Maybe I hallucinated the whole thing._

“Alright, let’s keep exploring!” Adora said, forcing a smile up at Catra, who was still mostly on top of her. “The woods aren’t as dangerous as we thought, I wonder what else—” 

Catra looked at her, one eyebrow raised, tail wrapping fondly around Adora’s calf. “Like hell we will. Adora, you’re such an idiot.” 

Adora sighed, looking back down. “Sorry, Catra. We could’ve spent more time out here, but—” 

“Your head,” Catra nodded, moving to stand up, and helping a wincing Adora to her feet. “No problem.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bless womenlovingwonderwoman for the three rounds of edits this went through


	4. beetle

The first day of their new assignments passed, surprisingly, without incident. Octavia had been mostly civil towards Catra, who even seemed vaguely intrigued about the prospect of learning to be even sneakier. Adora had attended her first day of Force Captain Orientation, during which they had _not_ gone over Force Captain Yells, to her dismay. She had been briefed on what the rest of the orientations would entail, however—they’d learn about the different kingdoms, first, and their princesses, which was just as exciting as it was intimidating.

After orientation, Adora had snuck into the training grounds for a couple hours to do some light training. She wasn’t an idiot—she wouldn’t do any boxing or anything—but she did feel good after running a few miles (at least, she felt good while on three times her prescribed pain medication). And the punching bag wasn’t gonna punch back, right?

She went to bed that night hopeful. Maybe Octavia wouldn’t make Catra’s life hell. Maybe they’d both be successful—or even _happy_ —in their assignments. 

Her peaceful sleep didn’t last long. 

The sword was in front of her, emitting a bright, sky-blue light. 

_Adora._

Adora startled awake with a deep inhale, eyes opening wide. _Is it time to wake up?_ But the lights were still out, and everyone was deep asleep. She looked around, but the room was otherwise empty. No sword.

She looked down at Catra, who was, as per usual, snoring lightly on Adora’s feet. Adora’s face relaxed, and she smiled softly down at Catra, carefully pulling her feet out. Her folded red jacket was laying on the ground, and she grabbed it as quietly as she could, sneaking out the door of their barracks.

“Hey!” 

Adora blanched, freezing, hands still holding her belt.

“Where are you going?” Catra hissed from the open door. 

Adora relaxed, shoulders falling in relief. 

“Back to the woods. There’s something I need to figure out.” 

“What? You’re not—” 

Catra’s eyes went wide as Adora pulled her behind the wall, hand over her mouth. A guard bot passed them, beeping, scanning.

“What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting _weird_ since we got back.” Catra grabbed at Adora’s face, looking at her from different angles. “Are you sure your concussion’s not acting up again?”

“Look, Catra, I know I saw something out there—and I had all these _dreams—_ it feels… important, somehow.” 

“Sounds good, let’s go.” Catra grinned.

“No, I don’t want you to get in trouble on my behalf.” Catra’s ears rotated back, and she slumped minutely. “Just, cover for me, okay? I’ll be back before anyone knows I’m gone.” 

Adora willed herself to ignore Catra whisper-shouting after her. 

Adora retraced her and Catra’s steps from the previous night, sneaking through the corridors, stealing the skiff, and driving into the Whispering Woods. The winding route they’d taken into the woods made it impossible to follow, so Adora wasn’t exactly sure where she had seen the sword. But she made her best estimate.

Once she’d gotten fairly close to what she thought was the right place, she left the skiff and continued on foot. It’d be easier to recognize from that vantage point, plus she was going slower, which meant for a more thorough search. 

_This was a bad idea. I could be risking_ everything _by being this reckless. I’ll get in so much trouble—Shadow Weaver will suspend me for a month—but I guess I’m already at restricted duty, because of my—_

The branches in front of her filtered a bright light. She took a deep breath, eyes wide. _It wasn’t a hallucination._ She continued, entranced, towards the sword, hand outstretched—

She heard a high, young voice, and a lower voice, and as they emerged through the hole in the trees—

_A princess._

Adora froze, adrenaline pumping, giving her an odd, detached sense of calm. _Maybe they don’t see me—maybe if I don’t move—_

They both screamed at her. 

_What the hell,_ she thought, eyes wide, heart racing, as her body dropped into a defensive pose. 

The princess wasn’t like the smoky demon princesses; she was closer to the purpley princesses of earlier training simulations. But still—

_—a dark, smoky figure advanced on Adora, sword pointed at her throat, white circlet on its brow—_

—the princess _teleported_ over to the sword, grabbing at it. Adora lunged for the sword, but the princess disappeared. She whirled around, panting, eyes darting around—and the princess reappeared just meters away. Adora lunged at her again, but the princess threw the sword to her male friend—who had to drop his bow to catch it. 

One cohesive thought managed to emerge from her wired brain. _They kind of—they’re not that good at fighting._

The princess latched onto her back, crossing her arms in front of Adora’s face. Adora grabbed the wrists that were doing a poor job of choking her, and, in a move she’d practiced hundreds of times, threw the princess over her head, coming up to her knees from a roll.

The boy was staring at her, eyes wide, clutching the sword to his chest. His eyes flickered from the princess on the ground back to Adora, and then to the sword in his arms. Adora smiled fiercely at him, trying to mask the slight shake of her knees, and started towards him. He yelped, fumbling the sword, and edged around the clearing, getting closer and closer to the princess, who had just risen to her knees. 

“Glimmer!” He shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth even though the princess was only feet away from him, panic clear in his voice. The princess glanced up at him and opened her mouth—

Adora was knocked brutally to the ground by something _enormous_ smashing into her back. She gritted her teeth against the overwhelming pain from her midsection, and her vision went fuzzy. _Fuck._ Her ribs were probably broken.

She tried to sit up, pain whiting out her vision, knees bent loosely in front of her, hands bracing her up at her sides, but there was no way in hell she was going to be able to stand. 

As her vision slowly cleared, she could make out a huge, beetle-like creature bearing down on the princess and her companion. It snapped at them, and the pair screamed, clutching at one another.

Adora tasted salt. She stuck her tongue out, swiping it with a finger. It came away bloody. She lowered herself again to the ground, unable to support herself any longer, and her vision faded once more to black. 

A loud screeching came from outside the clearing, and Adora heard the beetle crashing away into the forest. 

Adora awoke to the princess and her friend standing over her, talking in low voices. Her wrists had been tied together in front of her, and her back was against a tree. It was extraordinarily painful, and she wished she could just pass out again. 

“—can’t just leave her here, Bow!” The princess whispered too-loudly. “She’s got a badge, and you saw how she fought—she must be someone important. She must know something—” 

“Well, we can’t take her with us!” The boy, Bow, whispered back. “She’s a Horde soldier! What if they track her to us? And you saw how she fought—you saw her number—we can’t just sit around and wait—and she probably wouldn’t even make it to Bright Moon—” 

A groan escaped Adora, her head falling forward, almost resting on her chest. 

“We’re taking her with us, Bow. She’s exactly what the Rebellion needs.” 

There was a rustling in the trees above Adora, and a soft thump inches away from her feet. 

Two voices screamed. 

A loud, familiar growl sounded from in front of her, and Adora felt relief wash over her. 

A yelp. A low voice: “I told you we couldn’t just sit around and wait.”—Another yelp. “Bow, let’s get out of here.” Crunching leaves—footsteps—moving slowly away. 

A quiet gasp sounded from in front of Adora, and she felt a soft hand wiping blood away from the corner of her mouth, cradling her cheek.

“ _Adora_ ,” the voice pleaded. “Adora, _please_ tell me you’re okay.” 

She summoned the energy to raise her head, cracked her eyes open, and a pair of mismatched eyes, brimming with tears, stared back at her. 

Adora coughed and blinked. She nodded once, eyes drifting back shut. 

_“Fuck._ We’ve gotta get you back. Hang on—” 

The hand left her face, claws tearing apart the ropes tying her hands together, reaching under her knees.

A noise got louder and louder from the forest in front of her. A continuous crashing. Catra swore, arm snaking back out from under Adora’s knees. The metallic sound of claws unsheathing.

“I thought I got rid of it— _dammit_ —” 

Adora cracked her eyes open again. Catra’s back was framed by a fuzzy shape as tall as the trees. 

The shape charged at Catra, who glanced back at Adora, eyes wide and panicked, ears close to her head. Catra turned back and charged, jumping from a tree trunk onto the beetle’s head, and clawing at its eyes. The beetle threw her off, and she flipped to land on her hands and one knee, her other leg extended, ready to pounce. 

Catra jumped at the beetle again, trying to hurt it enough that it’d just _leave them alone,_ but as she embedded her claws into the side of its head, trying to climb up to its back, she was thrown again, landing on her back. The beetle advanced towards Catra again, and she jumped to her feet, backing away from it slowly, eyes fixed on its head. 

Adora saw Catra’s leg disappear into the ground. She heard Catra’s cry of pain, and saw her try to pull her leg out of the crack in the earth without success. The beetle was advancing closer and closer—

The princess jumped out between Catra and the beetle, hands glowing, throwing light at the beetle— 

— _the lightning streaked past Adora, hitting the chain of the platform she was sitting on—_

—an arrow hit the beetle’s head, exploding into some sort of green gunk, and covering the beetle’s eyes—

— _falling, flailing, trying to grab onto something, but there was nothing—_

—the princess and the archer were both thrown into a heap, and they weren’t getting up—

_—a blue and purple light, a tall, robed figure standing in front of her, strange symbols on the walls—_

—the sword landed in front of Adora, and she stared at it—

_—My name is Light Hope—_

—she fell forward to her hands and knees—

_—will you answer its call—_

—she heard a screech— _Catra_ —the beetle had once more rounded on her, and no matter how much she struggled, her leg was stuck—

Adora’s body moved, getting her legs under her, standing. She stooped down to pick the sword up. Her heartbeat was loud in her ears, the sword’s tip dragging on the forest floor behind her. It felt like a dream. The pain of her ribs had been washed away. Her head was empty. There was nothing, only—

She put herself between the beetle and Catra. 

“Adora, no! Adora!”

 _Will you fight for the honor of Grayskull?_

A voice—her voice?—proclaimed the words.

“For the honor of Grayskull!”

There was a flash of pure, white light, and the beetle skidded to a stop in its charge, stunned. Adora stabbed straight up into its head. It fell to the ground, twitching, and she stabbed it again, for good measure. 

Adora looked at the sword in muted amazement, and saw her reflection in its blade. She dropped it, horrified. She was—she wasn’t going to think about that right now. 

Adora strode over to Catra, who looked at her with almost the same expression of terror that had been directed at the beetle not seconds before. 

“Hey, Catra, it’s me,” she said placatingly, palms out, calming.

Catra’s expression softened into a scared confusion at the sound of her voice, but it was enough.

She reached forward to hold under Catra’s arms—

_—lifting Catra towards the ceiling, smiling wide, Catra’s expression open, unguarded, happier than Adora had ever seen her, music in the background, surrounded by laughter—_

—and pulled her out of the crack. Catra just stared at Adora’s face, tail twitching nervously. 

Adora felt herself shrink under Catra’s gaze, until they were standing almost eye-to-eye. They stared at each other, eyes wide, confused, and frightened, before Catra glanced away. 

“Sparkles is gone,” Catra said softly, nodding towards where the princess and her friend had been laying minutes before. 

“Good,” Adora whispered, feeling the power and adrenaline drain away. She sagged down, and Catra went to reach for her, but when she put weight on her left leg, she crumpled to the ground. 

Adora stepped up to her and crouched down, offering her hand. Catra looked at it for a second, eyebrows furrowed, but reached out and took it tentatively. Adora helped her up and slipped under her left arm. 

They walked together to the skiff that Adora had left, not thirty meters away. As it came into view, Adora noticed four long gashes in its side. She glanced down at Catra, who nodded. 

“It was the only thing I could think of that’d be loud enough to get that thing’s attention,” Catra murmured. “It sucked—you know how much I hate scratching metal.” 

Adora nodded, “And you, what, walked here?” 

“Ran, yeah. Didn’t have a key, didn’t have time to get one.” 

Adora climbed onto the skiff and reached down to help Catra. They sat huddled together on the ground in silence. After a minute, Adora took a deep breath, stood up and started the engine. She turned back to look at Catra. 

“Thank you.” 

Catra looked up at her, expression fond. “Like I was going to let you go out here on your own.”

Adora smiled back, then turned to drive them to the Fright Zone.

It felt like a completely different world than the one they had left earlier that night. While everyone else had been sleeping in their beds, Adora and Catra had met a princess, Adora had—what, _become_ a princess? _Still not thinking about that_ —and both of them had almost died. Suddenly the war seemed much less like a game.

Adora stripped out of her bloodstained clothes, prodding at her ribs. Nothing. She didn’t even have a headache any more. _Huh._ She washed the blood off of her body and face at the sink. There was a scary amount of it, mostly on her torso, but some had dripped down her legs. She heard a gasp, and in the mirror, she saw a wide-eyed Catra staring at the blood. 

“I’m okay, Catra,” Adora whispered. Catra nodded jerkily, unmoving.

She put on a new white shirt, and her grey pants. The ruined clothing went into the trash can, covered in bloody paper towels. Hopefully nobody would investigate too much.

Catra had disappeared into a stall by the time Adora had finished, so she headed back on her own. The barracks were mostly silent, filled only with the noise of deep breathing and Lonnie’s snoring. Adora slipped under the blanket of her ground-level cot, laying on her side, facing the door, eyes wide, focused on nothing. 

She jumped when the door slid open, and Catra stepped in, arms wrapped around herself, eyes downcast. She plodded silently up to the bed and hesitated, looking down. 

Adora looked up at her sleepily, and lifted the blanket, scooting over to make room next to her. Catra paused for a second, but slid in next to Adora on the tiny mattress. She curled up next to Adora, nuzzling into her neck, tail wrapping around her ankle. Adora reached out, looping her arm around Catra’s waist. 

Adora could feel herself shaking against Catra’s warmth. Catra purred softly, moving her own trembling hand to rest on Adora’s chest, and Adora’s breath slowed. 

“I’ll wake you up,” Adora whispered into Catra’s thick hair, and they were asleep.


	5. dichotomy

Angella knocked on her daughter’s bedroom door. It was noon; while Glimmer did love sleeping in, noon was a little excessive.

Glimmer’s sleepy voice answered from inside. “Yes?” 

“Glimmer, are you alright? Are you sick?”

“No, Mom. I’m okay. Just—” a yawn. “Just tired.” 

Angella hesitated behind the door. “May I come in?”

Another yawn. “Sure.” 

She pushed open the door, slid into the room, and shut the door softly behind her. Glimmer was sitting up in her floating bed, her pink hair sticking up even more than usual, eyes only barely open. Blankets were strewn about twenty feet below her on the floor. 

Angella sighed, but she couldn’t fight the glow in her chest. _Like father, like daughter._ “Glimmer, you do realize that it’s noon? You missed our morning briefing with the patrol officers.”

Glimmer’s eyebrows furrowed for a second, but she flopped back onto her bed. “Mom, I’m already grounded. What else are you going to do to me? And what does it matter? They always say the same thing.” She mimicked the deeper voice of an older woman—Angella thought that maybe it was supposed to be General Juliet? “Nothing to report, Queen Angella. No sign of the Horde.” 

Angella’s shoulders tightened. _Glimmer is young,_ she reminded herself. _She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t remember the first war._

“I expect you to be present at our meeting this afternoon with the generals, Commander Glimmer. I cannot be lenient with you forever,” Angella said, softening her tone as much as she could. 

Glimmer groaned. “Okay, Mom.” 

Angella turned to leave, but stopped herself. “Did you have trouble sleeping last night? Some of the guards reported a noise near your room early this morning.” 

“What? No!” Glimmer exclaimed. “I slept fine, Mom. No noises here.” 

Angella nodded, skeptical, but let herself out of the bedroom. Whatever it was, Glimmer clearly wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.

The Queen spent the next hour reviewing written reports sent from neighboring kingdoms. Her wings became restless as she reread the same thing over and over again: nothing to report. No change. She finally stood up from her desk, bursting from her office, walking briskly to the throne room, allowing her wings to unfurl, and taking off, spiraling into the sky. 

Her thoughts raced, as she climbed higher and higher. _It’s been ten years since the Horde’s last real attack on our territory. They send out their bots, we have little skirmishes, but what are they waiting for? Why are they biding their time?_

She leveled out, surveying her kingdom from hundreds of meters above it. Thousands of people moved below her, going about their lives. Many of them had forgotten about the war. _I can’t blame them. I would do the same, if I had the choice._ But after Micah, and being their Queen…

Angella circled her kingdom three times, watching her people as they talked, laughed, and danced. Their borders were free from bots, as had been reported by so many. But despite the years of semi-peace, and the lack of news from anywhere, Angella felt a shadow hanging over the kingdom. 

She landed in the throne room once more, knees buckling slightly, wings settling once more against her back. The emptiness of her stomach certainly wouldn't help her racing thoughts. She had missed lunch, and her feet carried her towards the kitchens. 

Voices echoed from behind the kitchen door as she approached. Angella recognized Glimmer’s voice arguing, and Bow’s responding somewhat calmer. _I do like that boy,_ she thought fondly. She was about to enter the kitchen, when she heard—

“We can’t tell my mom, Bow! She’ll be _so mad_ —she won’t ever let me leave the castle again!” 

Angella paused. _Should I go in?_ It would be dishonest to wait outside, listening—

“Glimmer, you know what we saw! This is the news the Rebellion has been waiting for for twenty years.”

Angella froze, hand already on the doorknob. _It can’t be—_

“We’ll tell her that you received a distress call, and that we couldn’t wake the guards up to go—or that they climbed into my bedroom window to kidnap me, and brought the sword with them, or that I had a prophetic dream—but we can’t just tell her that we snuck out of the castle—while I was _grounded—_ fought _two_ Horde soldiers, one of which was probably a _nine—_ and found _She-Ra—_ ”

Angella shoved the door open. It hit the wall as it swung. She could feel her wings flaring menacingly, but made no effort to calm down. 

Glimmer and Bow looked up from their seats across from each other at the table, eyes wide, mouths agape. Glimmer turned white. 

_“Mom—”_

Angella stared at her, jaw set. _Where to even start—_ but she saw Glimmer’s eyes fill with tears, and took a mental step back. 

“Glimmer, I am _very_ angry with you, but first and foremost, I am your mother.” She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. “Are you both alright?” She looked at each of them in turn, deliberately keeping her voice level. “Did either of you get hurt?”

Glimmer and Bow glanced at each other, and Bow spoke. “No, we’re okay.” 

Angella nodded. “Then tell me everything.” 

Glimmer opened her mouth, but Angella raised a hand. “Not you, Commander Glimmer,” she said, looking at Bow. He would tell it more honestly, and more succinctly. 

Bow took a deep breath, looking at Glimmer again, and started from the beginning. 

“Well, I asked Glimmer if she would come with me to investigate some powerful First One’s tech…”

Angella listened silently, nodding along, as Bow described their uneventful journey into the forest. He told how they met the girl, the Horde soldier, how the girl was severely injured, how they were debating bringing her home, how they’d tied her wrists.

“...and we saw her number,” Glimmer interjected. “Mom, she had a nine! And then her friend came, another Horde soldier, and she faced the beetle thing one-on-one and would’ve had it, but she got her leg stuck—and we think that it had to be her!”

 _A nine?_ The Horde had some dangerous people on their side. The Rebellion had once had numbers so high throughout their ranks, but those types tended to put themselves in more dangerous situations, and had all been lost in the first war. Angella herself had once been one of those people, but since Glimmer’s birth, and since she’d had to start splitting the power of the runestone—her days of fighting were over. 

“And well, we went to fight the beetle—we tried, anyways—but it knocked us to the side. And then the first girl took the sword, and she said the words: ‘For the honor of Grayskull.’ And she got all bright, and turned into She-Ra! I recognized her from the storybooks you used to read to me, Mom. And she stabbed the beetle through the head, and it died. That’s when we snuck away—she was still She-Ra, and we didn’t know what she’d do to us. So we came back here.”

Angella nodded, putting her hand on Glimmer’s shoulder. “You did well in coming back, Glimmer. And you both did well in going back to help. While it was reckless beyond belief, and you might have died,” she inhaled, pushing the thought away, “you were willing to fight for those who could not fight for themselves.” Her hand moved to Glimmer’s tearstained cheek, wiping at the tracks, and Glimmer leaned into her hand, smiling softly. “You were selfless and caring, two sentiments often lost on the battlefield.” 

“And She-Ra…” Angella sat even straighter, folding her hands on the table in front of her. “She-Ra, the Princess of Power, has always been a force for light. That she should be manifested in a Horde soldier is… worrying, to say the least, but we can plan around it.”

Glimmer sat up straighter, eyes sparkling. “Does that mean—”

The Queen rose to her feet. “Commander Glimmer, I believe that it’s time to plan a strike against the Horde.” 

Glimmer cheered, and ran to her mother, wrapping her in a hug. Angella held her tightly to her stomach. _She’s okay._ Bow stood awkwardly in the corner, and she beckoned him in to join them. _They’re okay._

They repurposed the afternoon meeting with the generals from a review of troop movements (spoiler alert: there was no movement) to a planning meeting. How could they get a hold of one girl, who presumably spent most of her time in the depths of the Fright Zone, without incurring the wrath of the Horde? 

While a covert extraction might at some point become necessary, it was possible they’d only need to wait for the girl to come to them. The girl had left the perimeter of the Fright Zone before, so she might be willing to do it again. They could plan around that. 

There was also the matter of the other girl: She-Ra’s friend. While she was clearly important within the Horde, especially if her number was as high as they suspected, She-Ra had to be the priority. 

So they set up a light patrol through the Whispering Woods. Glimmer would lead them to where they had found the sword, and they’d focus around that area. They’d send only the stealthiest to patrol, and hopefully, within the month, they’d have the blonde girl with the red jacket, who’d somehow been deemed worthy to possess the power of She-Ra.

For the first time since her husband’s death, Queen Angella saw a light at the end of the tunnel. 

* * *

Catra ran on her hands and feet, body moving fluidly. Even with her wrapped ankle, she outstripped her fellow trainees. Her mane flowed behind her; she felt _good_.

“It’s catching up!” Force Captain Octavia shouted at them over the loudspeaker. “Split up!” 

Catra peeled off to the left and scaled the sheet metal wall of the simulation room, digging in with her claws. She looked back down, and saw the rest of the trainees struggling to find cover in the almost-bare room. Her face broke into a smirk; they didn’t stand a chance. 

She was faster than any human, absolutely silent, and had amazing senses, which was part of what qualified her to be such a good spy. But despite the fact that she was making no noise, while the others were stomping around like a herd of elephants, and despite the fact that she should have been near-invisible to its scanners—she was just at the right height to be in its blind spot—the bot stopped in its tracks and turned around, fixing on her. 

It charged towards her, and her eyes went wide in panic as she climbed higher and higher on the wall. The bot fired at her, missing by inches. Catra climbed higher and higher, dodging every time she heard it charge up. Eventually, inevitably, she felt a hit to her chestplate. Looking down, a red “x” appeared. 

_Why does it always target me?_ She thought. _I’m always the first one out, but I’m by far the best one here—why does this keep happening to me?_

She slid down the wall, letting her claws dig long, screeching lines into the metal, relishing in the awful shivers it sent down her spine. She slumped out of the room, gritting her teeth, slamming the door down behind her. Octavia stuck her head out of the door, opening her mouth to talk to her, but Catra hissed, claws unsheathing, and Octavia’s good eye winced. Octavia withdrew her head, and the door clicked shut. 

Catra dragged her claws along the side of the wall, pressing just hard enough to make that hideous screech. _This isn’t fair. I’m better than they are. I am. I’m being sabotaged. It has to be sabotage._

She realized that she had subconsciously been making her way towards Adora; her scent was growing stronger by the second. She stopped at a door marked “Force Captains Only.” 

_Must be where they’re holding Force Captain Orientation,_ Catra thought, reaching towards the doorknob.

“Catra.” The melodic voice of Shadow Weaver echoed down the corridor.

Catra froze. 

“I heard that you failed the simulation again.” 

Catra turned, mouth pulled in a snarl, eyes wild. “You _know_ that I’m the best one in there. You _know_ that those _idiots_ are going to get killed as soon as they’re given a mission.” 

Shadow Weaver glanced at the door beside them and looked down at her disdainfully, hair flowing gleefully up towards the ceiling, eyeholes in her mask squinting. “Oh, Catra. You’re not nearly as subtle as you give yourself credit for.” She reached out, putting her hand on Catra’s shoulder, on the side of Catra’s face. “Your scores earlier were clearly a fluke; you will never be as good as Adora.”

Catra’s ears flattened to her head. She _knew_ that Adora was better than her—that was all Shadow Weaver had been telling her for years—and she'd _seen_ Adora fight—but... 

Shadow Weaver’s hand moved to stroke through the tuft of grey hair behind Catra’s ear. Catra shivered, unintentionally leaning into her hand, hating herself even as she chased the comfort.

“You need to get over yourself, Catra. You’ll only ever bring down the people around you.” Shadow Weaver glanced towards the door, behind which Adora was sitting, blissfully unaware. “You’ll only ever bring Adora down.”

Catra’s knees shook. _That’s not true—we rely on each other—she’s alive because of me—right?_

Shadow Weaver ran her fingers through Catra’s mane, circling around to her back, putting her hands on Catra’s shoulders. She whispered into Catra’s ear from behind. “You’ll only ever hurt her.” 

She drifted away, and Catra walked, dreamlike, to the wall and slid down it to sit, teeth bared, staring at nothing. 

She should move. Somebody might see her.

But she didn't. Couldn't.

Maybe minutes, maybe hours later, she heard the door beside her open. 

“Catra?” Adora asked, voice too loud, too commanding. 

Catra didn’t move. She heard the door click closed, and felt Adora walking closer, footsteps too heavy. 

“Don’t touch me,” Catra hissed, and Adora paused. Catra could almost see her hurt, confused expression.

“Catra,” Adora whispered, coming around to kneel in front of her. Her eyes were just as wide and pained as Catra had expected. “What happened?” 

Silence. She couldn't summon the words. Didn't know how. Didn't want to. 

Adora’s hands fluttered in front of her, but decided not to touch Catra, coming to a rest awkwardly on the floor between them. “I don’t know what happened to you, Catra, but I’m so sorry. Please let me help—let me—”

Catra closed her eyes tightly. “Give me a minute.” 

Adora sat as still as she could, fidgeting from side to side. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Catra pushed out, finally.

Adora stood up and offered Catra her hand, but Catra declined it, wavering only slightly on her bad ankle and tingling feet as she stood. They walked to the nearest bathroom, Adora locking the door behind them. 

Catra stood in front of the door, unmoving, staring at the tile floor. Adora knelt in front of her, catching her eyes. 

“What do you need?” Adora whispered.

Catra reached down slowly, putting her hands below Adora’s bent elbows, and pulling slightly. Adora rose to her feet, and Catra wrapped her arms around Adora’s waist, burying her head into her neck. 

“Oh, Catra,” Adora sighed, wrapping Catra in as tight a hug as she could manage. 

“You’re _you_ ,” Catra cried against Adora’s collar, despite herself, feeling her face flush red at her blatant weakness, her need for closeness. “She’s right—of course you don’t—you’re the best there is—why would you need _me_?”

Adora pressed her face into Catra’s hair. “Catra, I—of course I do. I don’t know what I do without you.”

Fuck, but Adora was good. Her hands stroking up Catra's back were more reassuring than she could know, brushing down Catra's ruffled fur, her thoughtlessly honest words soothing against the harsh wounds left by Shadow Weaver. 

Adora needed her. She didn't know what she'd do without her. 

They stayed that way for a minute, wrapped up in one another, Adora supporting most of Catra’s weight, before Adora spoke again.

“I care about you, Catra, _so much,_ but I left the meeting because I really had to go to the bathroom—” 

“Go,” Catra said, trying a smile but only managing a grimace, before sliding her indifferent expression back into place. 

“We’ll talk later, okay?” Adora called behind her shoulder as she jogged to the stall.

The loss of Adora's steady presence against her hurt, but she couldn't be greedy, couldn't be needy, shouldn't ask for more than what Adora was readily willing to give her. 

Catra washed her face quickly and left, planning to meet Octavia and the rest in whatever they happened to be doing. She’d brush off their questions, maybe say that Shadow Weaver had wanted to talk to her. Not quite a lie. And then she’d outperform them in every possible way. 

_Just one normal day,_ she thought. _That’s all I ask for. Just one day._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 😊😏  
> thanks for reading! and, as always, thanks to womenlovingwonderwoman for the wonderful advice and edits.


	6. dances and disorientation

They’d only told Adora a day in advance when she’d meet her team, so she had absolutely no time to plan. True, they’d given her a schedule detailing what they were to accomplish, and they’d only be meeting for an hour—but everything had to go perfectly. 

She spent the night sitting up in her bunk reviewing the cadets’ files. She hung a stolen flashlight to a hook beside her head, illuminating just the upper half of the bunk; Catra was curled up at the end, snoring softly. They were both surrounded by papers, filled with notes about her cadets and their future training. 

There were five of them, as usual. All human. Non-humans—like Catra and Rogelio—tended to be assigned to non-human force captains. She'd been thrilled to see their numbers--ranging from six to eight. Typically, cadets with such high numbers were assigned to force captains who had already successfully trained lesser cadets. Getting to work with such talented cadets the first time around was practically unheard of. 

It was creeping past midnight when she finally laid down to go to sleep, flicking off her stolen light and sliding it under the mattress. She could tell that Catra was sound asleep at her feet, despite Adora’s anxious tossing. She chanted their names to herself like a mantra all that night. _Jasper. Lou. Peter. Rosa. Tatiana—but goes by Tate. Jasper. Lou. Peter. Rosa. Tatiana. Jasper…_

The morning klaxon sounded at five the next morning, and Adora was startled out of her half-sleep. She shrugged on her jacket, dragged a brush through her hair before tying it up, and slid on a pair of boots—more padded than her usual choice. It was a running day, and she’d need the thicker soles. She lifted up her pillow, picked up her badge which had been stored underneath, and pinned it carefully to her jacket.

Catra had moved up to her own bunk at some point during the night. While it was impossible to hide their sleeping habits from their bunkmates, they could hide it from any snooping force captains who came around at the wake-up call to shove still-sleeping cadets out of their bunks. Adora poked at her, but Catra didn’t so much as pause in her snoring.

By the time Catra rolled out of her upper bunk, Lonnie, Rogelio, and Kyle had already left, and Adora was raring to go. Fortunately, Catra didn’t take much time to get ready. Catra stretched languidly, yawning, shirt pulling up the slightest bit to reveal a tanned strip of fuzzy skin. Catra smirked at her, raising an eyebrow, running her hands through her hair. “You about ready to go yet?” 

“You know me, always ready,” Adora grinned, panicking, pointing finger guns at Catra. Her face felt hot. But she ignored it, and Catra was too sleepy to make fun of her. So they jogged to the mess hall. They had five minutes to scarf down as many ration bars as they could—Adora grabbed three to Catra’s one.

Someone bumped Catra’s arm as they went to sit down. A younger cadet. Catra squinted at him and hissed so fiercely he dropped the ration bars he was holding and scuttered away empty-handed. Catra ignored him in favor of gnawing at her bar. Adora laughed. 

All of the soldiers above the age of fourteen had to join in the daily joint training. They started with a five-minute warm-up, then split up into groups. Adora was to run first. They only did five miles, which took Adora a good twenty-seven minutes. With every breath, she tried to remember more about her cadets— _I’m meeting them today!_

They moved onto a strength training exercise. _Jasper. Lou. Peter. Tatiana. Um, Rose? No, Rosa._ And finally, they moved onto sparring. She was squaring off against Lonnie, for maybe the five hundredth time. She smirked at Lonnie, beckoning her closer. It was such second-nature to Adora to dodge, parry, and strike Lonnie’s blows that she didn’t even have to fully be present. _Jasper. Lou. Peter. Tatiana. Rosa. Shadow Weaver expects that Jasper will be their de facto leader. Lou is quiet, but clever. Rosa has the highest number of all of them…_

She swept Lonnie’s legs, leaping on top of her, pressing her weight down. Lonnie struggled, growling, but couldn’t flip Adora off of her. Adora slid sideways, keeping her legs over Lonnie's torso to hold her down, pulling her arm into a straight armbar. Lonnie tapped the ground hard, and Adora let go, rolling off, panting. 

“Damn, Adora. Lay off the ration bars, for once,” Lonnie hissed, panting, rubbing her sore elbow. 

Adora just grinned fiercely, wiping sweat off her face. "No can do, sorry." 

The klaxon sounded, interrupting her one-track thoughts on _how to best beat Lonnie._ Her smirk fell away, replaced with a look of wide-eyed determination. 

_It’s time._

She ran to the training room, number six. The cadets were already there. Adora stopped, panting, hands on her knees. When she’d caught her breath, she looked up, pushing wisps of hair out of her sweaty face.

Four of them were standing more or less in a line, but one was slouching behind them— _Lou?_ —so painfully out-of-place that Adora was viscerally reminded of when she’d met Catra, back when they were about these cadets’ age. The others had all been standing at attention, waiting for their force captain to address them. But Catra had been curled in a tiny ball, all silky fur and soft edges.

It was Lou that made her reconsider their assigned schedule for the day.

“We’re supposed to spend this time training, but just this once, how about we sit down in a circle and take some time to get to know each other?” Adora beamed down at them. 

The four nodded excitedly and fell to the ground where they stood, but the other stayed standing for a second. Adora sat and patted the ground next to her, beaming at the cadet, and they slinked around the circle to sit gingerly down, pulling their knees up to their chest. One of the other cadets, a taller, blond boy— _Jasper?—_ laughed at them, and they glared back. 

“So, you haven’t met each other yet, right? Can I maybe go around and try to guess your names?” Adora asked.

“Whatever,” the girl to her left muttered. 

Adora turned to her, looking at her face, trying to remember—“Tatiana!” She exclaimed. “What a pretty name—”

“It’s _Tate._ And suck my dick,” the girl snarled. 

_Dammit. I forgot. What else did I forget? I knew I should have prepared better—_

_Maybe the wrong one reminded me of Catra._

Adora took a deep breath and grinned. “Sorry, Tate. My guessing powers seem to be offline today.” She turned to the next in line. Short, curly black hair, darker skin—“Peter, right?” 

The boy nodded.

“So you’re… Jasper, and Rosa.”

They nodded in turn. 

“Which leaves… Lou?” 

They nodded, slouching forward farther so that hair covered their face. Adora reached out to push it out of the way, but hesitated, remembering how Catra asked not to be touched sometimes, especially when her body language was like this. She put her hand awkwardly back onto the ground, leaning her weight back into it. “Nice to meet you, Lou.” She saw the tiniest of smiles on their face.

“Well, I’m very excited to get to know you all, but I think that’s enough of that for today. We’re supposed to do some exercises today, so—” she bounced up to her feet. “Attention, cadets!” 

The hour of training with her cadets was followed by three hours of Force Captain Orientation. Adora was exhausted from her sleepless night, and could barely pay attention—until— 

“—princesses’ kingdoms, and tell you their names. It’s convenient for you to know who we’re dealing with,” the force captain explained. Adora thought his name was Grizzly? Grizzler? She couldn’t quite remember. 

“First and foremost, we have the Rebellion’s headquarters: Bright Moon. The Queen of Bright Moon, and the leader of the Rebellion, is Angella.” 

The picture slid from an enormous castle to a very tall winged woman, mouth open in a maniacal laugh.

“And her daughter, Princess Glimmer.” 

A terrifyingly familiar face flashed on the screen, and Adora couldn't help her gasp.

Everyone looked at her, and she flushed under their scrutiny. “It’s just, that’s a lot of—” _what color is that?—_ “that freaky color, that’s all.” 

The muscular, red woman next to her nodded wisely, humming her assent, and everyone turned away from Adora, but she couldn’t rip her eyes away from the screen. 

“Of course, we also have our resident princess, Scorpia.” The woman next to Adora waved, and Adora’s eyes went wide. _No, it can’t be—I can’t have been sitting next to a princess this whole time—_

Adora toppled over in her seat. She’d apparently inched so far away from the princess sitting next to her that she’d overbalanced. The force captain glared at her and she righted her seat—placing it a little farther away from the princess—and sat down quickly, blushing.

"Sorry," she muttered, looking down at her hands.

The princess rambled for a minute, but Adora caught none of her words. Her heart was too loud in her ears, her thoughts too wild. 

Adora was planning her fifth route of escape—numbers one through four were too likely to get her injured or demoted—when she heard her name. 

“And Force Captain Adora, you will be leading our attack on Thaymor in eight days’ time.”

Adora started from her chair, almost falling over again. “I’m sorry—what?”

The force captain looked at her with one eyebrow raised. “You will be leading the Horde’s attack on Thaymor next Saturday, Force Captain. I hope that you pay more attention to the battle then than you have been paying attention to this orientation.” 

Adora blushed a bright red, and muttered, “Sorry, Force Captain.” 

“As I was saying, you will prepare the attack formations for us for Wednesday, and we will review them and make recommendations. But at Thaymor, you will be the only Force Captain present, and will be expected to make all necessary accommodations. Understood?”

“Yes, Force Captain,” Adora said, sitting up straight and saluting from her chair. 

He grunted suspiciously, but carried on with his lecture. Adora tried to pay attention—she really did—but she had too much to think about. She had to overcome her dumb fear of princesses, she had to think of the best ways to involve her cadets in training, and now she had to plan her first real attack. She’d wanted responsibility—that’s why she’d trained so hard, her whole life—but all of this, all at once, was overwhelming. 

But her spine straightened again. _I have been preparing for this since I was five,_ she thought. _I’ll be damned if I let the princesses get to me now, right when I can actually make a difference._

She and the other new force captains were finally dismissed for lunch, where Adora sat as far away from the princess as is possible. The rest of the day’s training and patrolling passed in a flash. 

While she and Catra didn’t share a lunch hour any more, they did still overlap for dinner. Adora grabbed her ration bars—she was too late for the grey ones—and looked around the mess hall, searching. She finally found Catra eating at a center table, with Lonnie eating across from her. Catra caught her eyes, and Adora grinned hugely, making her way over, and plopping down next to Catra.

“How was your day?” Adora asked, glancing from Catra to Lonnie.

“We’re going through new simulations,” Catra told her. “There are pressure plates, and motion detectors, and noise detectors, so we’ve got to move really quietly and carefully. I’m always the first one through, though.” 

Adora glanced up from her ration bars to smile at her. “That’s awesome!” 

“Yeah,” Catra said, tail wrapping around Adora’s waist, far enough below the tabletop that Lonnie couldn’t see. “Octavia’s finally starting to see that I’m the best one there.” 

Adora felt her face grow hot again—did she have a fever? _—_ but she reached down, stroking the end of Catra’s tail. 

Lonnie ignored them both, growling at her food.

"Wait, what day is it?" Adora asked, an inexplicable excitement rising in her chest. "Friday, right? We’ve got dance after this!” They were required to attend at least twice a month, to improve their footwork for hand-to-hand combat. 

“Yeah,” Catra groaned, but then she sat up straighter, leaning into her elbows on the table. “I guess if I get an assignment as an undercover operative, I might actually have to attend a dance one day.” 

“That’d be so cool!” Adora grinned. “I couldn’t imagine going to a real dance—all the fancy clothes, and music, and people—I couldn’t imagine ever wearing a dress.” She looked down at her jacket, tugging it straighter. 

She noticed Catra looking at her, an introspective look on her face, but Lonnie stood up. “Let’s go, idiots. It starts in a minute.” 

Adora stood up to follow her, Catra trailing behind. 

The dancing room was actually just a converted training room. The wrestling mats that usually covered the floor were leaning against the walls. Some old speakers had been hauled into the room, and were hooked up in each of the four corners. Several older soldiers patrolled the room with clipboards, waiting to mark scores.

The music started, everyone lined up, Catra finding her place across from her. Adora knew that Catra detested dancing—she didn’t like being touched outside of blood sports. So she always lined up with Adora. 

It was kind of sweet, the trust she showed Adora.

They waited eight beats from the start of the song— _a waltz_ —and Adora placed her left hand in Catra’s, her right on Catra’s elbow. Catra stepped forward into her, and they stepped quickly together, spinning to the beat of the music. Their clasped hands led the way. It was a dance they’d done together hundreds of times, and Adora found herself getting lost in its familiarity. 

Catra moved her right foot forward, Adora moved her left back. Catra pushed to spin them faster, Adora followed. Their thighs brushed together with every step, their chests with every breath. Catra’s eyes sparkled with an emotion Adora couldn’t identify. With each note, her indifferent, snarky mask faded, leaving a much softer look in its wake. 

The music ended, and after a heartbeat, Catra dropped her hand, letting go of her arm. They stepped away from each other, eyes still locked, but Adora tore her eyes away for long enough to bow. 

The soldiers with clipboards patrolled the lines, giving out tips to cadets who had made a misstep. They passed by Adora and Catra; they’d danced perfectly. 

Another song started up. _Swing?_ It was less jazzy, and much slower than a typical swing song, but as the people around them lined up, Adora can tell that it was, indeed, swing. So she and Catra placed their palms together, and after the eighth beat, they started dancing. 

They were lighter on their feet, this time around, stepping quickly on their tiptoes, and there was a lot more space between their bodies. It felt more like sparring, this time, the give and take between them, the advance and retreat. They intertwined their arms, and Adora spun Catra around her. Catra’s soft look hadn’t gone away, and Adora felt _so lucky_ to be able to see it, to be able to see Catra like this. Thankfully everyone around them was too caught up in getting the steps right to pay them any attention, otherwise she was sure that Catra would be her usual, cautious self.

Adora stepped her feet together _—1—_ crouching low enough that her hip was lower than Catra’s— _2_ —wrapping her arm around Catra’s waist— _3_ —and picked her up, letting Catra’s weight rest on her hip— _4_. They spun in a slow circle— _5, 6—_ and Adora let Catra down, spinning her— _7, 8_. Catra let her back fall into Adora’s front, and Adora caught her, pushing her gently forward before lifting her by the hips—

_—lifting Catra towards the star-studded ceiling, laughing, Catra smiling down at her without abandon, music playing—_

—and Adora stumbled, almost dropping Catra to the ground.

"Sorry," she whispered, and Catra glared at her, but there was no heat behind it. They continued their dance, stepping around each other, Adora drawing Catra close before letting her spin away again. 

It was nearing the end of the song, and Catra didn't spin quite so far away any more. She stayed close, brushing against her on every beat. Adora saw Catra’s eyes dart down from her eyes, and back up again. 

_What is happening?_

But suddenly Catra went completely rigid in her arms, staring over her shoulder, tail on high alert. Adora spun around, searching, and saw the open door to the room, a piece of maroon fabric swishing out of sight. She turned back to Catra, mouth open, their hands still clasped together, but Catra’s mask was already back in place. 

Catra wrenched her hand out of Adora’s and ran out of the room, slinking between couples. Adora tried to follow, but she didn’t see the holes in the crowd like Catra did, and by the time she made it to the hallway, Catra was gone. 

_What the hell just happened?_

Adora ran to the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind her. She walked up to the sink, leaning over it, looking at herself in the mirror. Her face was flushed from dancing, her eyes bright, her eyebrows drawn together. 

Adora turned on the faucet, splashing her face with the freezing water. Her mind was racing. _Why was Catra acting so… and how do I get her to be like that all the time?_ She stared at the run-ing water. _Why did she run away?_ And, after a moment, _I really need to talk to her._

The faucet handle creaked as she turned it off. She wiped her face on her jacket sleeve, unlocked the bathroom door, and went to find Catra. 

Thirty minutes later, as Adora dodged behind a corner to avoid another security bot, Adora reminded herself that if Catra wanted to be found, she’d have found her by now. She hadn’t been on the roof, but that was too obvious. She hadn’t been in the barracks, or in any of their storage closets. She hadn’t even been in the mess hall, trying to trick the serving bots into giving her more food. 

Catra would find her when she was ready.

So Adora decided to give her space, and went back to their bunk. She hadn’t been assigned her own quarters yet; tradition had it that she’d be transferred after her first successful mission. She sat on the bed she’d shared with Catra for as long as she could remember, and pulled out some clean sheets of paper. It was time to plan an attack on Thaymor. 

Adora got lost in her work, scratching out her best ideas, drawing schematic after schematic, balling up paper after paper as she found flaw after flaw in her plans. _The tanks won’t be able to make it through that valley; it’s too skinny. But if we send them around the other way, it leaves the foot soldiers too exposed. If we split the tanks and foot soldiers up, the Rebellion will have the advantage of numbers…_

She was so engrossed that she didn’t notice Catra coming in until a pile of papers was brushed aside and she plopped down on the floor beside the mattress. 

“How’s the planning going?” Catra asked. 

“Not great,” Adora sighed, gesturing at the twenty-or-so ruined papers surrounding them. “I keep thinking that I’ve got it, but there’s always something wrong with my plan. I’ve got to get this figured out… they’re counting on me to lead…” 

“You’ll figure it out. You always do.” 

Adora deflated, gathering up the few papers she’d decided were worth keeping, and sliding them under the mattress with her pencil. She pushed the other papers into the room’s trash can, and slumped back onto the mattress. 

“Hey, Catra? I think we should talk.” 

“‘Bout what?” Catra angled towards her, but the angle of her jaw said she wasn't completely enthused to enter an emotional conversation. 

“I just… a lot has happened in the past few days, and I’m not sure how much of it I really understand, and I… need to figure it all out in my head.” 

Catra nodded, looking vaguely uncomfortable. “Go ahead, then.” 

Adora took a deep breath. “Alright, so. First of all, the sword? I didn’t really see what happened when I—when it happened—but what did you see?”

Catra relaxed for a second, but curled in on herself. “Well, you got all glowy, and you got really tall—like, even more stupidly tall than usual—and really muscular—more so than usual—and your hair got really long. You stabbed the beetle-thing, and you pulled me out of that damn crack—you remember that part. And then you lost the glow, and turned back into,” she gestured at Adora, “you.”

Adora frowned. “But when I transformed back, I wasn’t hurt any more.” 

Catra smirked at her. “Yeah, the glowy lady must have healed you. Pretty cool, for a—” she stopped herself. 

“Do you think—” Adora shuddered, trying to force the words out of her throat. “Did I turn into a—a princess? Am I a princess?” 

Catra scooted closer to her, edging onto the mattress. “I really don’t know, Adora. All I know is that you’re the same Adora I’ve always known. And maybe that dumb sword turned you into something else for a minute, but if we just stay away from it, it never has to happen again.” 

Adora sniffled, curling into Catra’s side. “I was so scared, Catra. I don’t want to be—I don’t want—”

“I know,” Catra sighed, putting an arm around her. “I don’t want it, either. I don’t know what we’d do.” 

Adora calmed herself down for a few minutes, before speaking again. “I also had these, like, visions?” 

Catra scoffed. “Yeah, right.” 

“No, seriously. I saw the sword in one of them, and a weird lady in another. You were even in one of them—and I saw it again, today, while we were dancing. I saw us dancing together, and you were just so carefree and… happy. It made me wish—” Adora paused, thinking. “It made me wish that you were that happy, somehow. I don’t know what I mean.” 

Catra’s cheeks tinged pink, and she poked at Adora’s side. “Whatever,” she scoffed, turning to hide her face. “Sounds dumb.”

Adora laughed against her shoulder. “Are you okay? You’ve been acting a little… weird, lately. I’m worried about you.” Catra’s claws dug into Adora’s bicep, but she embraced the pain. “Catra, please,” she whispered into Catra’s shirt. “Let me help you.” 

“Not now, Adora,” Catra hissed from between her teeth. She withdrew her claws from Adora’s arm, sliding her fingers over the cuts instead. “I can’t do this with you. Not right now.” 

Adora nodded, burying her face into Catra’s shoulder. “Whatever happened, I’m sorry. I—you know I’m here for you, right? No matter what. Like we promised.”

She felt Catra nod, and they sat in silence. 

Catra heard the others stomping down the hallway, just a few minutes before curfew, and carefully untangled herself from Adora. She climbed lithely onto the top bunk, flopping down. The others had clearly been dancing the whole time—even Rogelio’s face seemed flushed. 

Adora stood up, jogging to the bathroom to brush her teeth, but she felt herself falling, flailing, She managed to catch herself on Lonnie’s bunk. She laughed at herself, grinning sheepishly—she’d somehow managed to trip on absolutely nothing. But Lonnie popped up from her pillow, and sneered at her. 

“Not so light on your feet now, huh?” She taunted. 

Adora felt heat rise to her face, and opened her mouth to say something absolutely _devastating_ , but she was interrupted by Catra’s raspy voice emerging from the darkness behind her.

“We get it, Lonnie. You can’t beat Adora during training, so you’ve got to get in your hits now. Now shut up, I’m trying to sleep.” 

Adora snorted, and Lonnie started from her bed, but Adora continued on towards the bathroom. Lonnie wouldn’t start something now, not when a force captain would be finishing the curfew rounds in the next minute and a half. She brushed her teeth in record time, and sprinted back, getting under her sheet just as the light clicked off. 

Minutes later, Adora felt the telltale shuddering of the bunk bed as Catra climbed down to rest on her feet. 

Despite the fact that Adora might be a princess, despite their first, not-at-all-fun contact with the war, and despite whatever was bothering Catra, all was as it should be. 

At least, for the next six days. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! Expect the next chapter this Saturday 
> 
> also thanks to my beta (who is def more of an editor than just a beta reader) womenlovingwonderwoman, who is, objectively, funny as hell, and whose encouragements to keep making Adora more and more of a dumbass have made this fic subjectively hilarious
> 
> I did way more research into dancing than it might seem like based on the four paragraphs it takes up in this chapter. Here are a couple of the youtube videos I watched:  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HI23ZSnaNgg  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=g1o31fsZxCc&t=48s


	7. prisoner

Octavia and Catra had their first confrontation on Wednesday, but Octavia left it with her other eye still intact and Catra wasn’t reported to Shadow Weaver, so Adora called it a win. 

Adora’s presentation to the other force captains detailing her planned attack on Thaymor had been an unequivocal success. And things were progressing well with her cadets; Jasper was still a jerk to Lou sometimes, but they were all bonding nonetheless. Everything was perfect. Mostly.

She laid restlessly in bed Wednesday night. Not only was she going to lead the attack on Thaymor in three days’ time—which she was unbelievably excited (and anxious) for—but… 

She had started having those dreams again—although they’d drifted more towards nightmares at this point. That disembodied, strange voice called her name and the flashes of that dumb sword had been joined by flashes of unfamiliar castles and furious war zones. She’d woken up with her heart pounding, sweating through her sheets, more times in the past week than she had in her life. She’d managed not to wake Catra again, somehow, but it was only a matter of time. 

Eventually, Adora couldn’t keep her eyes open any longer. 

_Adora…_

_—a white tower set against purple mountains—_

_—a brutal battlefield, scarlet with blood, weapons firing, soldiers clashing—_

_Balance must be restored._

_—she was standing on the wrong side; she was destroying Horde tanks, killing Horde soldiers—_

_Etheria needs you._

_—she had to be on the wrong side, because she was fighting Catra, whose face held no recognition of her, only a fierce snarl—_

“Adora?” 

She started up, head almost colliding with Catra’s, who barely dodged it. 

“I’m fine,” Adora exhaled, pushing her sweaty hair out of her face. 

Catra knelt over Adora’s legs, glowing eyes examining her, and Catra shook her head, whispering. “You’re not. You haven’t been sleeping. What were you dreaming about?”

Adora sighed, rubbing her eyes, shoulders falling. “It’s those dreams again. The—the visions. With the sword, and the voice. You were in this one, too, but it wasn’t…” she rubbed her forehead. “We were fighting, and you didn’t…” 

Catra blinked slowly at her. 

“I don’t know how to stop the dreams, Catra, and they’re only getting worse,” Adora pleaded.

The eyes in front of her blinked again, and Catra’s tail curled around Adora’s ankle. Catra was thinking—hard, judging on her squinted eyes and motionless body. 

“Adora, you know I wouldn’t suggest this if I didn’t think it was the only way, but—it seems like the sword is calling you, and I don’t think—it’s magic, so I don’t think it’ll stop until you make it stop.” Catra’s hands rested on Adora’s knees. “So, I think we might need to go find that sword, and get rid of it somehow.” 

Adora tensed up.

“Don’t worry,” Catra added quickly, “you won’t have to use it again. You won’t even have to touch it, if you don’t want. I’ll do all the work. But you can’t go on like this, especially not if it’s getting worse.” 

Adora paused, thinking. It did seem logical, and if it could stop her from seeing these awful things—“okay,” she whispered. “Let’s do it. Not tonight—I’m not sure we’ll have time. Tomorrow?” 

“Tomorrow,” Catra agreed, before sliding off of Adora’s legs. Adora curled up on her side, and Catra was taking her place at the foot of the bed—

“Catra,” Adora implored, and Catra stopped, turning back on all fours. She looked over Adora. Her arms were pulled into her chest, her knees drawn high. Catra slid under the sheet, slipping behind Adora on the mattress, pulling Adora’s back to her front with an arm around her waist, and resting her head on Adora’s back. Adora’s arms relaxed from her chest, coming to rest instead on Catra’s hold around her waist. 

Adora slept soundly the rest of that night, waking only to Catra untangling their legs to slip back into her own bed just minutes before the wake-up call. 

The next night, an hour or so after curfew, they snuck out of the Fright Zone once again. Getting the skiff’s keys had been much easier now that Adora was a real force captain, and didn’t need to sneak around. 

There was no bickering as they mounted onto the skiff, this time; Catra drove, and Adora stood beside her, keeping her eyes peeled. They zoomed towards the Whispering Woods. The last either of them had seen the sword was right after Adora dropped it, after facing the beetle, so they were going to start looking there. 

The trees seemed even darker and more looming than they had the previous times, and the soft noises of far-off creatures made Catra's fur stand on end. Adora scanned the woods in front of them. Catra’s ears swiveled around, listening, her eyes darting to search the surrounding shadows. 

The skiff finally pulled into the cursed clearing, and Catra powered it down. The forest floor was inauspiciously empty. “Well, I guess we start looking,” Catra murmured. 

Adora slid off of her end of the skiff. Her feet had hardly touched the ground when she was covered in something, and she couldn’t move—she tripped, fell onto the ground— _a net?_

“Catra!” She yelled.

And Catra was above her, clawing ferociously at the rope holding her motionless, but Catra’s ears went back—there were more nets coming, and she dodged away, snarling. She ran back to Adora, eyes wide and frightened, but suddenly they were surrounded by spears, wielded by Rebellion soldiers.

“Catra, you have to go,” Adora ordered. “They can’t get the both of us. You have to report back.” 

Catra shook her head, baring her teeth, swiping again at the ropes. But a spear poked at Catra’s neck, and she yowled, jumping involuntarily away from Adora, and swiped fiercely at the soldiers’ legs until a gap opened. Catra landed on all fours outside of the circle, turning back to hiss at the soldiers, and giving Adora a terrified look. 

“Go,” Adora mouthed to her, and Catra disappeared into the trees above them. 

_She’s got my back,_ Adora thought. _She’ll follow us from the trees, and keep an eye on me, make sure they don’t try anything. She’ll be more useful up there than tied up with me._

A couple of the soldiers went to follow Catra, but one grunted, “don’t bother. We have the one we need, anyways.”

_She won’t leave me, not until she’s sure I’m safe._

They hauled Adora a ways into the trees before blindfolding her, spinning her in circles, and laying her on her stomach atop some tall creature. A soldier sat behind her, keeping her steady as the creature loped through the woods. 

It gave Adora no small satisfaction to know that while she certainly couldn’t see where they were going, Catra was following them from behind. And Catra would remember the route they took perfectly.

While the discomfort of Adora’s position, and the constant banging of her head against the creature’s side, made it difficult to discern large parts of their conversation, she managed to make out bits and pieces. 

“—heard the rumors about this one—” 

“—requested she be brought in—”

“—must be important—”

“— heard she wishes to interrogate this one herself—”

 _Ah_ , Adora thought. _So they need me for something. They aren’t planning to just kill me._

And then, panicked, _If it has to do with that sword—they can’t make me transform again, they can’t—_

But she could just refuse to say the words, right? Or fight her way out. Either way, she’d figure it out when she got to it. For now, she just needed to stay conscious and aware of her surroundings. If there was an opportunity to escape, she had to be ready. 

They had been moving for—by Adora’s count—about two hours and eleven minutes, when she heard a soldier in front call for a halt. Her creature stopped, and she was removed from off of it. The soldier that carried her was surprisingly gentle—she wasn’t jostled as they walked, and they supported her neck with their arm.

_Huh. They must really need my cooperation._

They walked for three and a half minutes, going up four flights of stairs (Adora couldn’t help but be impressed by this soldier’s stamina—she knew she wasn’t light, by any means, but the soldier didn’t falter), before they set her on a soft surface. She felt hands on the blindfold, and she blinked her eyes at the sudden brightness. 

She was in a large, colorful room—even larger than her whole barracks had been, and even more colorful than the entirety of the Fright Zone. She had to shut her eyes, for a second, against the overwhelming stimuli. 

The soldier in front of her was a very tall woman. Adora could tell that she was fit, even beneath her winged armor and purple cape. The soldier didn’t speak, but gave Adora an apologetic smile as she met her eyes. 

The soldier went around to Adora’s back, tying Adora’s wrists together through the netting, and Adora let her eyes examine the rest of the room. _Is this their version of a prison? It doesn’t seem very effective._

There was… a bench with a back and a mattress? It honestly looked more like a bed than any kind of chair. _Weird. Wonder how they sit up straight on that. Seems kind of poorly-designed._

Her wrists were tied tightly, and the soldier came back around and crouched at Adora’s feet, tying her ankles. The door opened, and another soldier slipped in, carrying two spears, and standing at attention just inside. Adora managed a glimpse at two others standing guard just outside the door. 

_They’re underestimating me—and Catra,_ Adora thought, hiding a grin. _I can take four with my hands tied, and Catra could take them blindfolded._

The soldier finished tying her ankles tightly together, and drew a knife from her waist. Adora froze. 

“No, wait,” the soldier said, holding her hands up, knife held loosely, point down. “I’m just going to cut this net off of you, I promise.” 

Adora relaxed minutely, keeping her eyes on the blade. True to her word, the woman swiped through the net, letting the ropes fall to her side. Adora breathed in deeply, nodding her thanks. 

The soldier stood up, joining her companion at the side of the door and claiming a spear. She knocked twice on the door, and it opened again, revealing—

Adora’s eyes went wide with fear, and she stood, managing to stay on her feet. _“You,”_ she seethed. “Don’t you _dare_ come any closer.” 

The Queen stopped, a concerned look on her thin, white face. 

“I’ve heard what you do to people, _Angella._ I know all of your methods of torture. I’ve practiced against them. I know your mind games—I’ve practiced against them, too.”

The Queen’s went even whiter, her wings shuffling behind her, folding in tightly to her back. Her mouth opened, but— 

“I know why you need me here. It’s the sword, right? You want me to use the sword against the Horde. Well, I’ve got news for you—” Adora hopped closer to her menacingly—“I will _never_ use that sword again. I am loyal to the Horde. And nothing you or any of your princess friends can do to me will _ever_ change that.” 

She was only a few feet away from the Queen now, breathing heavily, staring at her with as fierce a look as she could manage through her trembling. 

The Queen took a step back, feet almost getting tangled in her altogether-too-long cloak. 

_Are there—_ Adora looked at the Queen more carefully. _Is she crying?_

Adora had really only seen three people cry, ever, including herself. Kyle cried on a semi-regular basis, maybe once a day, any time he was reprimanded. Catra had cried once, when they were much younger; she’d gotten stuck up in the rafters of the simulation room, and they’d had to get a ladder to get her down. Shadow Weaver had taken her aside afterwards, to admonish her, and Adora had found Catra hours later, crying in a storage room. And finally, Adora herself had cried once, when she was much younger and had broken her first bone, her arm. 

Adora had never in her life made someone cry. What kind of distress must the Queen be faking to be able to cry like that, on command? Why would she want to appear weak in front of her captor? 

Could she be _really_ crying? 

The Queen turned to sweep out of the room, but paused, looking back. 

“I am _so_ sorry,” the Queen whispered, voice tight, “for the pain that you have suffered. You are too young for this war, and too young to have lived what you have lived. But I promise—and I will swear it on whatever you want—I will do everything in my power to protect you from ever having to suffer again. You will be safe here. I will protect you, I promise.” 

She continued out of the room, the soldier closing the door softly behind her. 

Adora fell to her knees, the fight draining out of her. 

She knew all about the power of promises. Her life was founded on them, after all. The fundamental promise of her life was to always be by Catra’s side— _I guess they made me break that promise, at least for now,_ Adora thought bitterly. And after Catra, Adora had promised herself to the Horde. _At least I can hold true to that._

And now this woman, the Queen, had made a promise to her, to protect her. And despite everything Adora had been taught about the princesses, it had been a heartfelt, honest promise. 

The Horde had taught her that princesses were completely, inevitably _evil,_ but from what she’d seen of the Queen, she was open and caring, both of which were emotions Adora associated with Catra more than the Horde; they were both emotions that Adora associated with warmth. _What does it all mean? How is it possible for a princess to be this… nice?_

Adora pushed her legs through her linked arms, so that her arms were in front of her body. It was marginally more comfortable. They brought her food, while she sat on the floor, unmoving. She didn’t eat it. They brought her water. She didn’t drink it. The sun set outside the window to her room, and Adora thought about Catra, waiting outside, plotting her extraction. 

She laid on the too-soft bed for hours that night. It was impossible to get comfortable with her wrists and ankles tied. It was too cold; her feet were freezing. And she felt more alone than she could remember ever being. 

_Adora…_

_—a bloodstained battlefield, in front of a white castle—_

_You must trust the Queen, Adora…_

_—to Adora’s right, the Queen fought, a whirlwind of light and wings—_

Adora awoke early the next morning before the sun had even really risen. Her entire body was sore, and she was exhausted, but she pushed her discomfort to the side. Weak sunlight had begun creeping through the window, and she dragged herself to her feet, hopping over to look out. 

She was easily a hundred feet above the ground, overlooking a slim stone pathway. Across the pathway, there was a deep drop, and a wide river separating her from the Whispering Woods. 

Her heart dropped. _There’s no way Catra made it across that river without anyone noticing._ If Catra was still around, she would be stuck in the woods, too far away to be of any real use. _Hopefully she doesn’t try anything stupid. Hopefully she just goes back to the Fright Zone and tells them what happened. Well, some of what happened._ The sword would have to stay out of it.

She leaned on the windowsill until the sun was truly risen, watching the woods carefully for any sign of movement. There wasn’t any. 

She was on escape plan number seven (numbers one through six involved at least an eighty-two percent chance that she’d get seriously injured) when she was interrupted by a knock on the door. The two guards—two different guards—at her door opened it. The boy from the woods came in, balancing a tray on his arms. 

“Hi!” The boy smiled. “I’m Bow. We met the other day, in the forest. I brought you breakfast.” 

The food did smell really good, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t laced with some kind of truth drug. Adora looked at him blankly. 

Bow’s smile dropped a little, but he still pulled out a small table from the corner of the room and placed the tray on it, sitting on the floor. “It’s not poisoned, if that’s what you’re worried about. We wouldn’t—we’re not like the Horde, we wouldn’t do something like that.” 

Adora glared at him. 

His eyes grew wide under her stare, but he looked back down at the food and started to eat some of it. “See?” He said. “Not poisoned.” 

Adora’s stomach rumbled, and she kneeled begrudgingly in front of the small table. Sitting down was awkward enough with her ankles tied, but eating with her wrists tied was going to be a whole new level. 

She looked at the food—it was completely unfamiliar to her. Bow was using a small metal trident to poke at his food before putting it in his mouth, but Adora wasn’t fussed about eating properly. She ate the food out of her hands. _This is amazing!_ A smile involuntarily spread across her face, and Bow lit up. 

“It’s good, isn’t it?” 

“I guess,” she muttered, but kept eating. She ate everything on the tray, and drank the two columns of water they had put on it. _Wow. That’s even better than the grey ration bars._

Bow stayed seated, even though the tray was empty, just looking at her. She tried to ignore him, but his eyes were too concerned. 

“What do you want?” Adora finally snapped.

“Well, um,” he stuttered, “are you okay? Is there anything you need?” 

“I need to get back to the Fright Zone,” Adora snarled. 

“Um, aside from that. Do you need to, um, shower? Or do you need new clothes? We can get you anything you want.” 

“No. I’m fine.” 

“The guards are going to take you to the bathroom, anyways. And when you come back, I’ll still be here.” 

Adora did need to pee, badly, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. She was escorted to the bathroom by six guards. _At least they upped their security on this,_ she thought. _Maybe they aren’t as incompetent as I thought. Maybe it won’t be so easy to get out of here after all._

Bow was indeed still seated when she got back. 

“What’s your name?” He asked. “We never really found out, and…” 

“Like I’d tell you.” 

Bow scooted back from her, holding his hands up. “Hey, listen. I just want to be your friend. Let me help you out, here.” 

She snarled at him. 

Bow came in with every meal, after that, and they ate together. He talked, while she mostly sat and listened. On the second full day, during her fourth meal with Bow, the guards started taking off her wrist ties so that she could eat more comfortably. 

Bow told her about the kingdom. It was nice, he said, full of fun, happy people, who liked to play and dance. Most of the people were just people, not soldiers, and they spent their time doing whatever they wanted. His dads, for example, owned a library, and loved doing research. 

(Adora wasn’t sure what a “dad” was, or really what a “library” was, but she nodded along nonetheless.)

He wasn’t sure if she remembered from when they met earlier, but he loved shooting arrows. He’d practiced day and night to get as good as he was. 

(Adora realized that he was probably better at shooting arrows than she was, which made her respect him just a little.)

On the third day, Monday, during her seventh meal with Bow, he asked what her name was again. 

She hesitated, but told him. “It’s Adora. Force Captain Adora.”

Bow smiled, reaching out a hand. She looked at it, before extending both of her hands, tied together again after their meal. He laughed, grabbing them and shaking them awkwardly. “Nice to meet you, Adora.”

Bow’s best friend in the whole world was named Glimmer. They’d met when they were kids. Glimmer didn’t have a lot of friends, but neither did Bow. 

(Adora was reminded of Catra, and she felt that overwhelming loneliness again.)

Glimmer was a princess, but she was also Bow’s best friend. Best friends was something Adora could understand. So when Bow pleaded with her to give princesses a chance—to give Glimmer a chance—she almost felt like she should. 

But as soon as that sliver of doubt entered her mind, she remembered that dark, smoky princess with the sword to her throat, and the doubt dissipated like smoke. _They’re evil. They all have to be evil. That’s what the Horde has always told me, and the Horde is always right._

But Bow’s descriptions of the kingdom made it seem much better than she’d imagined it. Reportedly, the people here were somehow happier than the people in the Horde were ever allowed to be. And while that might lead to their downfall in the war, there was something to be said for their unbounded happiness. 

On the third day, the ninth meal, the Queen entered the room with Bow. Adora rose warily from where she’d been doing pushups. The Queen sat on a stool a respectful distance away, as they ate, and as Bow talked to Adora. He asked her what she remembered about her transformation in the woods, and she answered in short sentences. He asked if she’d be willing to show her arm, and she hesitated, but pulled up her sleeve proudly. 

The Queen stood, taking a step closer, and gasped. “They’d told me it was high,” she murmured, “but to see it myself… is something else. I’m so sorry, we meant to bring her along with us too.” 

“Who?”

“Your friend, the girl who fought beside you.” 

Adora shuddered, snarling, rising awkwardly to her feet. “I’m _glad_ you didn’t get her. She’s back in the Fright Zone right now, planning my rescue. And she’s cleverer than any of you; she’ll get me out.” 

The Queen paused. “I’m not surprised she got away, with such a high number. And, do you happen to know what number she sports on _her_ wrist?”

“Like I’d tell it to _you,”_ Adora spat. Aside from the raw skin of her wrists and ankles, Adora hadn’t been hurt in any way. They hadn’t tried to torture her physically, and they hadn’t tried the mind tricks Shadow Weaver was so fond of preparing them for. While the Queen wasn’t as dangerous as Adora had been led to believe, Catra was still off-limits. 

But a thought came to Adora’s mind. _How do they know that Catra’s number is high? And how could they expect her to get away, but me to be captured? My number is higher—_ she wouldn’t be so desperate as to ask for clarification from her captors, however. She’d wait for them to drop clues, bide her time. 

The Queen seemed to accept that Adora wouldn’t tell her anything else, and she sat back down gracefully on her stool, wings fluttering behind her. 

Bow glanced at the Queen, who nodded. He brought out a small device with a screen. A kind of transportable television? “Adora, we know that this is going to be really hard. But we have something to show you. You’ve never been in a real battle, have you?” 

Adora glared at him, but shook her head, sinking back to the floor. 

“I didn’t think so. You’re too—” he paused. “Anyways, we thought we’d show you a video of the attack on Thaymor, that happened just two days ago.” 

Adora started. “Wait, _Thaymor_?”

Bow looked at her curiously. “Yeah, do you know something about it?” 

She gaped. “Um, I guess? I planned the entire attack, and I was supposed to lead it.” 

Bow’s eyes went wide, and the Queen inhaled softly, a hand to her heart. 

“Well,” Bow said, starting the video. “I guess you’ll be able to see just how well it worked, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! hope you enjoyed :) I'm really excited for the next chapter--it has what is so far my favorite scene in it. will definitely be posted by Tuesday.
> 
> thanks to womenlovingwonderwoman for beta-ing!


	8. dichotomy ii

Catra raced through the Whispering Woods. She was exhausted. She hadn’t slept since Wednesday night, and it was now— _what day is it?_ Saturday? Around noon. 

She’d followed the soldiers, on their dumb-looking creatures, to the castle. She’d seen them take Adora inside, and had waited for some kind of signal, but none came. The castle was silent, guards patrolling constantly. The kingdom around her was busy with people, but she stayed out of sight in the trees. 

Saturday morning, she had seen Adora in the window of the castle, searching the forest. Adora wouldn’t be able to see her—she was too far—but she waved at her anyways. _I’m coming for you, Adora._ Adora leaned out of the window, and Catra counted to figure out which window it was. _Northernmost tower, four floors up, second window from the left._ She waited another couple of hours, just in case, but nothing happened. 

There was no way she could make it to the castle, not with the quarter-mile long, completely empty space between here and there. Someone would notice her, and she’d get herself killed or captured. And like Adora had said, she was no use captured. 

So Catra was running back to the Fright Zone. Exhausted, starving, but on a mission. She mostly ignored the ominous sounds around her, scaling the nearest tree if they got too close, but fortunately, nothing attacked. It took three hours to make it through the woods. 

_Well,_ Catra thought drily, as she stumbled through the door into the metal corridor that led to the kitchens. _I guess some good came from Shadow Weaver making me train on an empty stomach._

She guzzled two bottles of water, scarfed down a stack of ration bars she stole from the serving bots, and jogged again down the corridor, thinking. _How can I get Shadow Weaver’s attention…_

Catra found herself in front of the Black Garnet Chamber. Two guards stared at her, and she knew that she was on camera from several different angles. 

“Hey, guys,” she drawled. “How’s it going?” 

They glanced at each other, then back at her. 

“Sorry about this,” she warned, before charging at them. She flipped onto the shoulders of the one on the left, squeezing tightly around his neck with her legs. He fell to the ground, as her legs tightened. The other guard charged up his stun baton, lunging for Catra, but she rolled herself over, dragging the guard trapped between her legs with her. 

“Catra.” A voice echoed down the hallway.

Catra immediately stopped, letting go of the guard, springing to her feet, and saluting. “Shadow Weaver. Nice of you to show up.” 

“What in the world do you think you’re doing?” Shadow Weaver asked, drifting closer.

“Getting your attention.” Catra tried to smirk, but it faltered. “The Rebellion captured Adora.” 

Shadow Weaver’s eyes narrowed. “You’re lying.” 

“Why would I lie? Use your magic or whatever to find her. You’ll see that I’m telling the truth.” 

Shadow Weaver paused, before grabbing Catra’s wrist tightly and dragging her along behind her. “We’ll see. But if you’re lying…” the grip tightened, nails digging into her skin, and Catra grimaced. _That’s gonna leave a mark._

The guards moved aside, the one still standing dragging the one Catra had almost choked out. The door opened automatically, and Catra’s eyes went wide. _No way._ She hadn’t been in this room for years, and the nightmarish details she’d begun to attribute to her scared, childish imagination—the runestone emitting a red-blue light, the eerie silence, the blood-red torches, the designs on the walls… it was a perfect match for Shadow Weaver.

Shadow Weaver let go of her arm, sweeping up to a basin set beside the Black Garnet. She pulled something out of her robes, sprinkling it into the basin. Seconds passed, and Catra snuck up to look into it. 

Adora was reflected in the water. She was moving up and down—doing sit-ups? Her wrists were tied together at her chest, and her stupid jacket was missing, but she looked unhurt. 

Catra felt her fear subside, as fondness washed through her. _Of course she’s working out. What an idiot._ And, _I guess they’re not torturing her, yet? She seems… okay. But it’s only a matter of time. I have to get her out of there as soon as possible._

Shadow Weaver growled, rounding on Catra. Her hair floated towards the ceiling threateningly. “How could you let her be captured?”

Catra’s claws unsheathed automatically, and her tail moved nervously behind her. “I didn’t get her captured! It was…” but she took a deep breath, closing her eyes. _I can’t tell her about the sword._ “It doesn’t matter how she got captured. All that matters is we get her back.”

Shadow Weaver advanced on Catra, leaning over her, poking her in the chest with one long, blue-grey finger. “This is _your_ fault. I always knew you’d be her downfall. You make her weak, make her take chances she shouldn’t, distract her from her training. If you had left her alone when I ordered you to, this never would have happened. She would never have been so _weak_ as to let herself get captured, if it weren’t for you.”

Catra hissed, but didn’t move away from the finger digging into her chest. “Adora makes her own choices. You should know that, Shadow Weaver. She’s too smart and confident and hard-headed to rely on _my_ poor decision-making skills.” 

Shadow Weaver’s hand inched up to Catra’s neck. Catra’s heartbeat was too fast, and sweat had started to drip down her temples, but she straightened her spine, speaking as calmly as she could manage. “Adora is too valuable an asset to be in the hands of the Rebellion. I figured out how to navigate through the Whispering Woods. I know the way to that dumb castle where they’re keeping her. I know what room she’s in. And I have a plan for getting her back. All I need is the Horde’s support.” 

Shadow Weaver stared into her, and Catra found herself hoping, praying that today, despite her worst screw-up ever, she’d be spared the mind games. Catra couldn’t afford to forget anything, not today. She couldn’t afford delaying her rescue of Adora, not even a minute, not a second. 

And Shadow Weaver drifted away from her, lowering her hands. “Very well. We shall plan a rescue, together. But don’t think you’ve escaped your discipline. After Adora has been returned to the Fright Zone, you will be punished to a degree that you cannot imagine.” 

Catra couldn’t sleep that night. Her bed was too empty, too big, and her mind was too full of _Adora, please be okay, please come back to me in one piece, please don’t let them get to you,_ and _the castle is separated from the woods by a quarter-mile of water, so we’ll need to distract the guards,_ and _after twenty minutes of running through the blue mushrooms, you turn thirty-five degrees towards the south and go in the direction of the orange-leafed plant for thirteen minutes,_ and _Adora, I don’t think I can do this on my own,_ and _Adora, I swear, you had better come back to me._

***

On Bow’s tiny screen, Horde soldiers entered Thaymor from the valley to the south. They advanced silently on the defenseless town. 

_They don’t even have patrols to warn them of an attack?_ Adora thought. _That’s poor planning on their part. If I’d known, I wouldn’t have worried so much about this succeeding._

There were a few civilians out on the town, and Adora heard music very faintly through the speakers. _Are they… dancing?_

The music was completely overpowered by screams as soon as the Horde soldiers began firing. And seconds later, tanks emerged from the north, firing huge blasts at the civilians. They would be completely surrounded within minutes, exactly according to plan.

Adora saw a small child, no older than Lou, run screaming away from the camera. She saw a terrified, crying woman run towards the child, arms wide to sweep them away, but a tank fired, and they were both gone. 

And the slaughter continued. Thaymor put up no fight. Not one soldier showed up to defend them. They were killed ruthlessly, one after another. A bloody mist covered the battlefield, the soldiers turned to leave, and eventually, the camera went black.

Adora’s eyes were unfocused. _So much death,_ she thought. _So much needless violence. Against unarmed civilians. Against helpless children. And it was my plan they used. It’s my fault—_

“Adora,” a voice murmured. “I’m so sorry.” 

She felt something wet drip onto her hands and startled, reaching up. Her cheeks were soaked with tears.

_I don’t believe the Horde could do something like this. It must have been staged. The Rebellion must have—but that’s not possible, is it. The technology doesn’t exist… and it was my plan the Horde used. They couldn’t have faked that._

_I can’t_ believe _the Horde would do something like this! They killed so many people. And I would have been there, killing alongside them._

_How can I make this right? How can I get the Horde to stop doing this, stop killing innocents? I have power there—I’m a force captain—they’ll listen to me—_

_But they won’t listen to me, will they? They’ve done this before. This is what they’ve been training me for, my whole life. They told me Thaymor was an important military outpost, but it was clearly defenseless._

_How do I fix this? How do I stop them?_

She remembered years of Catra protecting her from the jibes of the other cadets, Catra curled around her to ward off the nightmares. She remembered years of standing up for Catra, back when she was too small and soft and cuddly to really fight for herself. She remembered seeing Catra crouching stubbornly between her and that beetle, refusing to let it pass, charging at it against all odds just to distract it from Adora. She remembered overcoming the immeasurable pain in her body to put herself between Catra and the beetle. She remembered her tiny cadets, too young to go to war, too young to fight, too young to die. 

Adora looked up, fighting years of loyalty to the Horde; against all her training, against her eighteen years of being told that the Horde was right and the Rebellion wrong, against every bone in her body reminding her that princesses were _evil_ and not to be trusted, and against the nightmarish smoky figures making themselves known in her mind, she followed her aching heart. 

_I have to protect those who cannot protect themselves._

“I want to join the Rebellion.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading, friends! I know it’s a short chapter, but it felt right to end it there :) but next chapter will probably be up Thursday!
> 
> also thanks to womenlovingwonderwoman for editing!! and please don’t beat her up in the comments when she inevitably says something sarcastic ;)


	9. confrontation

“Joining the Rebellion,” it turned out, wasn’t nearly as much work as Adora had anticipated. As far as she could tell, the only difference was that she was untied, got a new room, and wasn’t surrounded by soldiers. But she wasn’t woken up early to go to training, she wasn’t asked to attend any meetings, and she wasn’t allowed out of the castle. (She didn’t blame them; two days ago, she’d have killed any of them on command.) 

Adora knew that Catra couldn’t still be out there—she’d have already reported back to the Horde—but it still made her anxious to think about what the Horde could be planning to get her back. And what they’d do to her when they got her back and realized… she needed to talk to Catra. 

Adora was, in other words, anxious as hell and bored out of her mind. 

Wednesday morning, she woke up from her restless sleep with the sun, and snuck to the training room for a few hours. She was allowed there, but the _stares—_ it was better go in the morning, and she wore the plain white long-sleeved t-shirt Bow had brought her, rather than her Horde-issued clothing.

Bow brought her breakfast in her room, still, and ate with her. But even she couldn’t spend the entire day working out. She needed something to do with her mind, something to occupy her thoughts besides the— _I left the Horde—I can’t believe I left the Horde—I can’t believe I left Catra—Shadow Weaver is going to be so disappointed—when will I see Catra again—_ or she was going to go crazy.

That day, Bow—maybe sensing her restlessness—came into her room for lunch with a small wooden box. It rattled as he walked up to her table and placed it down. 

“What’s that?” Adora asked, leaning in to get a closer look. The box had alternating tan and dark brown squares. 

Bow opened it, letting wooden figurines scatter over the table. “It’s a game,” he said. 

A “game” to Adora meant sweat, snarling competition, and brutal physicality. “A… game? What kind of a game uses…” she picked up one of the figurines. “Um, very small towers?” 

He laughed. “It’s called chess. We put these pieces on the board, like this,” he organized the pieces onto separate squares. “It’s a strategy game, kind of like… a simulated war.” 

He explained the rules to her, and Adora caught on fairly quickly. They had much more complex war simulations in the Horde; this couldn’t be that difficult. 

Bow cornered her king after just a few minutes of their first game, but Adora could feel comprehension of the game dawning on her. Her eyebrows pulled tight, and a competitive smile spread across her face as she set up the pieces for another game. Bow had thought a couple of moves ahead, but this time, she’d have him. 

The second game, Adora won in less than ten minutes. Bow sat still in front of her, his mouth gaping open, staring at the board. 

“How did you—that’s not possible—I mean, I’m not that good, but that was amazing! It was like you knew exactly—” he paused, looking up from the board to meet Adora’s triumphant smile. “What exactly did you do in the Horde? You said you were a force captain, right?” 

Adora sighed, the smile sliding off her face. “Yeah. I’d only just been assigned Force Captain. But I’d been training for it my whole life. I was in the top class, so on top of, like, fighting and math and stuff, they taught us a lot of strategy.” 

“Well,” Bow set up the pieces again, “it seems like that definitely paid off. Maybe we should have you sit in on some meetings, or something. It’d be good to have somebody with real training there, especially someone who understands how the Horde thinks.” 

Adora nodded. She squared her shoulders against the ever-increasing weight of responsibility. Leaving the Horde had meant a week where she hadn’t had any assignments, but of course the Rebellion would give her important duties as well. 

“But hey,” he leaned across the table, “you’re obviously better than me at chess. How about I ask Glimmer if she’d play with you? She’s much better than I am, too; it’s part of why Angella let her become Commander so early.” 

Adora hesitated. _I don’t think I’ll be able to—I can’t sit that close—_ her hands started to shake, and she put them under the table, pressing them down onto her thighs. “Sure,” she said. “Why not.” 

“She’s visiting another kingdom, this afternoon,” he said, “but she’d love to come over tonight, I’m sure.” 

Adora nodded, looking down at her hands. 

Bow stood up to leave, smiling down at her. “Adora, I’m—really proud of you. I know this whole thing can’t be easy, but you’re doing the right thing.” He left the game on the table, and Adora spent the next few hours moving the pieces around the board, learning this new version of war strategy. 

Glimmer didn’t come over that night. Instead, two hours after Bow left from their dinner, while Adora was reading a very _strange_ book Bow had brought her, a horn echoed throughout the castle. 

Adora sprang to her feet, rushing to the window. 

Blood-red Horde banners flew above the trees in the forest.

 _They came for me,_ she thought, panic rising in her chest, choking her throat. But she remembered Thaymor, the child disappearing from in front of the tank, and she ran from her room, through the hallways, down the stairs, to the entrance to the castle. Soldiers were assembling in ranks, but there wasn’t time, so she joined a few desperate others in sprinting across the bridge separating the castle from the rest of the town. It took her too long; she could already see smoke rising from the village, and she could already hear the screams. 

Ten-or-so Horde cadets, in full armor, were advancing on a hut standing just a few feet away. The curtains at the windows flickered, and Adora caught a sliver of a terrified face, a too-young eye.

She called out to the soldiers, before her brain could catch up. “Hey! Over here!” 

They turned, and paused. “Force Captain Adora?” One of them said, saluting half-heartedly, voice muffled through the mask, stepping forward. “You’re to come with us.” 

She stood up straight, commanding, “You need to leave these people alone. They’ve done nothing wrong.” 

The cadet who had spoken glanced over at the house, then back at Adora. “Are you… protecting the enemy, Force Captain?” 

She set her jaw. “And what if I am?” She said, cooly. “We have no right to attack children, or to kill the innocent.” 

The cadets looked at each other, confused, through their helmets. “But we have orders, Force Captain,” the one said. 

“If you want to get to them, you’ll have to go through me,” Adora said lowly, walking carefully between the soldiers and the house. 

They glanced at one another, before the first shrugged. “Have it your way.” He leveled his sword at Adora and charged. 

Adora dodged to the side at the last second, and grabbed his arm as it extended, pressing hard on his wrist. His sword dropped into her other, waiting hand, and she slammed the hilt into his helmet. He didn’t get up. 

The others came at her more slowly, but synchronized. Adora spun the sword from hand to hand, waiting. Really, she’d prefer her staff, especially against so many opponents, but she could work with this. 

The first three charged, together, and Adora knelt below them, catching two blades on her sword. The third wielded a staff, and reached under her sword and hit her in the chest, and again in the face. Fortunately, the blows were meant to stun, not kill. She pushed up in a feint, before letting her sword drop and rolling between the two with swords. She hit the third on his helmet, and swept the legs of the two others, snatching a short-range stun gun from the belt of one of the fallen, and tasering the two in quick succession as they tried to regain their feet. 

The other five soldiers stared at her, weapons drawn, but obviously scared. Adora waved them away with one hand, the other still clutching the stun gun. “I don’t want to fight you. Just… leave them alone.” 

They turned tail and fled back into the woods. They’d probably just loop around and find a new home to terrorize, but at least this one was safe. 

Adora’s vision swam, and she blinked, trying to focus. That soldier had hit her pretty hard, and she could feel blood dripping down her face, but it wasn’t over. She had a mission to accomplish, here. _I need to protect—and I need to find Catra—she has to be here—I need to convince her to stay with me, convince her that the Horde has been manipulating us—_

“Hey, Adora.” 

Adora whirled around. Catra was perched on top of the house Adora had defended. She laughed in relief. “Catra!” 

Catra swung down the eaves of the house, landing in front of Adora. She was smirking, but Adora could see her concern in the quick motions of her tail and the low set of her ears. 

“Who did this to you?” Catra seethed, coming closer, cupping Adora’s cheek, wiping at the blood dripping from her forehead. Her tail wrapped around Adora’s waist, and Adora couldn’t resist the urge to wrap her arms around Catra and pull her in tight.

Catra resisted halfheartedly, but nuzzled into Adora’s chest. “I missed you,” Catra whispered. 

The tension drained out of Adora’s body. “You, too,” she sighed. “But I need to talk to you.” 

Catra pulled back, looking into her eyes. “I’m here to bring you home. What’s there to talk about?” 

“Catra, I’ve been—I saw what happened at Thaymor.” 

“Your plan was a complete success,” Catra bragged, but paused. “Why did you say it like that?” 

“I—Catra, I saw—they’ve been killing _children,_ kids the age we were when we first met. It’s not—the Horde shouldn’t—”

Catra tugged herself out of Adora’s arms completely, staring intently into Adora’s eyes. “Are you—Adora, are you okay? What did they do to you?” She gasped, grabbing Adora’s hands. “They didn’t—did they use their mind tricks on you? Turn you against the Horde? Wipe your memory?” 

Adora shook her head against Catra’s increasing desperation. “No, Catra. It’s still me.” She turned her hands over in Catra’s grip so that she could grasp Catra’s hands, stroking them soothingly. “It’s still me, but Catra, you should have seen what they did. The Horde isn’t what we thought.” 

“Adora, you _lived_ in the Horde. You lived through what they did to us. You saw what Shadow Weaver did to us, to _me_. What did you think the Horde was?” 

“Catra, I didn’t know any differently.”

Catra’s hands squeezed Adora’s tightly. “Of _course_ you didn’t know, you’re too damn trusting, too _good,_ so much better than the rest of us, right? But still—how is it that when they were hurting _us_ , you didn’t try to get us out, but now as soon as these children—”

“You were _strong—_ we were strong enough together, Catra. We stuck by each other, and we could take whatever they threw at us. But the other things they’re doing—they’ve gone too far. We can survive on either side of this war, as long as we’re together. Just, let’s be together on the right side of it?”

“I’ve stuck with you through everything, Adora. Your obsessive need to make everything _perfect_ , your nightmares from that _dumb_ sword. Even now—I’m here to _rescue_ you—I stuck with you through _everything,_ and now—you can’t choose me, once?”

“I _promised,_ Catra. I _couldn’t_ leave you—I _can’t_ . But I didn’t know, and it’s _wrong,_ what they’re doing, and now that I know, I can’t just let it happen! And I know you’re not a bad person, you don’t belong there—”

“Not a bad—Adora, are you kidding?” Catra paused, thinking. 

Adora heard Catra’s claws unsheath, and felt them dig lightly into the backs of her hands, but she didn’t draw away. She needed every point of contact she could have, she needed Catra to _understand—_

“So, what?” Catra spoke softly, but Adora could feel the growing, simmering rage. “You decide to trust the Rebellion after, what, a week? You betray the Horde after a _week?”_

“No, Catra, wait—” Adora started, but Catra cut her off, wrenching her hands away, leaving trails of blood. 

“How could you choose the Rebellion over the Horde in a _week?_ How could you choose the princesses over the Horde in a _week?_ How could you choose _them—_ over _me?”_

“Catra, that’s not—of course I want you with me—I was asking you to stay with me!” 

“Have you forgotten—” Catra seethed, advancing as Adora backed away. “You promised to be there for me, and I promised to be there for you. Well, here I am. Come home with me.”

“Catra, I _can’t—_ you should come with me! The Rebellion isn’t at all bad—they haven’t done anything to me, they haven’t once used magic—you could come with me, we could be safe here, we could do good things—I can’t go back now that I know—”

Catra stood still for a moment, and Adora could see the conflict in her eyes, in the slant of her mouth, in the low set of her shoulders. _Please, Catra, please—_

“Then you’d better get out of here, princess _,_ because the Horde gave me very direct orders, and I’m not about to betray them.” 

Adora gaped at her, eyes welling with tears. “Please _,_ Catra, _stay_ . Just give them a chance—give _me_ a chance—” 

But Catra turned on her heel, leapt back onto the housetop, and was gone. 

Adora sat against the wall of the house, pulling her knees up to her chest, resting her head on her knees. _Catra—what will I do without Catra—why can’t she just_ understand _—_

It was like a piece of her was missing, like she’d lost an arm or a leg or even her heart. How could she function without Catra? How could she know up from down, without Catra to ground her? How could she know left from right without Catra’s eyes? How could she keep doing what she was doing, knowing that Catra was working against her? Was she even doing the right thing, if Catra wasn’t with her?

The sounds of fighting eventually faded away. _Catra must have called them off,_ she thought numbly. _She gave up on me. All I wanted—it seemed so close—it would’ve been so perfect—_

“Excuse me?”

Adora stood up, sword in hand. Everything went black for a second, and she leaned against the wall of the house, pushing down the bile in her throat. 

A woman had emerged from the house, holding a pot. “Are you alright, miss?” 

Adora nodded, but had to shut her eyes tightly against the spinning world.

“We saw what you did, and we’d just—thank you, _so much._ I don’t know what we would’ve done, if—well, I never learned how to fight, and my son is only three, and—” 

Adora’s eyes filled with tears. _I did the right thing. Whether or not Catra can see it yet—I’ll convince her. I’ll win her over. I have to._

“I thought I’d just come help you clean up a bit? You don’t look very good, miss.” 

“It’s Adora,” she mumbled, sliding down the cabin wall back to the ground. 

The woman knelt next to her, dipping a cloth into the pot full of water at her side, sweeping Adora’s bangs back into her ponytail, and wiping at the blood on Adora’s face. Adora closed her eyes. 

_I left her. I can’t believe—why would I ever—the one good thing in my life—_

“You’re going to need to see a doctor, Adora,” the woman said, softly. “You got hit pretty hard, you might have a concussion. I’ll help you to the castle, if you’d like.” 

“Okay,” Adora breathed, and the woman helped her to her feet. 

The quarter-mile long bridge had passed in less than a minute on her way to the battle, but took almost ten to cross again. Adora leaned heavily on the shorter woman, trying not to get blood on her. 

A guard saw them approaching and ran into the castle. He returned in a few minutes with Bow, who greeted them at the gate. 

“Adora! Are you okay?” 

The woman handed her off to Bow, thanking Adora again, and Bow led her down a new set of hallways. They ended up in a bustling room full of beds, ruined purple armor spread across the floor. Adora sat down on the closest empty bed and laid down, closing her eyes. 

“Adora, you can’t fall asleep—Adora—”

But it was too late, and she was too tired.

_—Catra snarling at her, pouncing on her, claws unsheathed—_

_—Catra curled up in a ball, so young, hissing at Adora to stay away, but Adora always came back, she’d always come back—_

_—a white-gold uniform stained red, a flash of red-purple magic, a bright white light—_

_—Catra sleeping behind her, holding her, protecting her—_

_Adora…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! I'm so sorry, but not really (sorry haha) I appreciate you all
> 
> thanks to wlww for pushing me to make the break-up scene as true to Adora and Catra as possible (she only made me rewrite it four times ;)
> 
> also the next chapter is going to be pretty long (probably) and is taking me a while to figure out so probably won't be up until Tuesday :( I kept an update schedule for a new record of one week


	10. soulmates

The doctors released Adora from the hospital the next day with instructions not to strain herself. _It’s not like there’s anything to do here, anyways,_ she thought, but nodded along. The cut across her forehead had stopped bleeding and was held together with butterfly bandages. But the tumult in her heart far outweighed the pounding in her head.

 _It was the right choice, I know it…_ still, Catra’s heartbroken face—which she’d quickly covered with anger—weighed on her mind.

That night, Bow entered Adora’s room with the purple-haired princess in tow. The princess bounced towards the table where Adora sat, but Bow placed his hand on her arm and she calmed considerably. 

“Hi,” the princess smiled tentatively. “I’m Glimmer.” 

“Adora.” 

“I… heard you’re pretty good at chess? And Bow kept losing?” 

“That pretty much… sums it up, yep.” Adora’s voice wavered, despite her best efforts. 

Glimmer paused. “Listen, I… I’ve lost people to the Horde, and I know you don’t love princesses, but I’m willing to have a truce, if you are?”

Adora nodded, willing her hands to stop shaking. “I’d like that.”

Glimmer dropped down across from her at the table. Adora had already set up the board. 

The princess won the first game handily. She played very differently from Bow, and it was a hard adjustment to make. The second game was much closer, but Glimmer still scraped out a win. But the third game… as night turned black, and Glimmer’s turns stretched from two minutes to half an hour, Adora realized that she had the upper hand. 

Glimmer stared at the board. Adora knew which three moves Glimmer was considering. She knew that the knight would be tempting—she could take Adora’s pawn, and put herself closer to taking the castle—and the bishop would be the safe move, but she suspected that Glimmer would take the bait and Adora’s queen. But no matter which move Glimmer chose, Adora was no more than eight moves away from checkmate. 

She’d figured Glimmer out—at least, chess-wise. So Adora studied her, bouncing a leg. Glimmer was completely focused on the board, leaning her face on her hand. The whole time they’d been together, Glimmer hadn’t done anything princess-y. No teleporting or sparkles, like she’d used in the forest. She seemed… completely normal.

Bow had an arm over Glimmer’s shoulders, leaning behind her to look at the game. They were so _open_ with each other, even in public. Bow didn’t even wear anything to cover his wrist, so Adora could see the small _5_ inked there. It was weird, but… nice, somehow. 

(Adora couldn’t help imagining living here with Catra, being able to touch her without worrying about who saw, but that thought brought with it a wave of sorrow and guilt.)

“Damn,” Glimmer finally said five moves later, pushing over her king. “I can’t believe you’re so good at this already.” 

“I’ve had a lot of practice with strategy.” Years and years of it, bouncing countless ideas off of Catra before presenting to their teachers. She and Catra were unstoppable, the indisputable victors of the competitive simulated war game of the past four years. They’d prepared for _years…_

It’d be interesting to play Catra at chess—she’d have a much more aggressive strategy than both Bow and Glimmer—Adora found herself already mentally preparing against Catra’s attacks. 

“Well,” Glimmer stood up and stretched, yawning. “It’s about time for bed. After last night…” she trailed off. 

Adora nodded, although for her, the previous night had been one of the best nights of sleep she’d had since leaving the Fright Zone. Her concussion-induced semi-comatose state meant no dreams, and she’d slept blissfully for a solid twelve hours. 

Glimmer went to leave, but paused at the door, looking back. “Adora, you should try transforming into She-Ra again tomorrow! My mom’s really excited that she’s back, but hasn’t seen her yet, plus we could totally use her help fighting—”

 _She-Ra?_ Adora thought, nonplussed. _Who’s—_ but “transforming” clued her in, and she recoiled, opening her mouth— _no, I can’t—_

Bow took Glimmer by the shoulders and steered her out of the room. She resisted, but he was strong enough to carry her, so she didn’t stand much of a chance. “She doesn’t really get it,” he smiled apologetically back at Adora. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

“Maybe not… tomorrow,” Adora squared her shoulders. “But let’s plan on the day after. I just need a little more time to prepare, that’s all, but I think I should be good to go.” 

_This is what I’m here for, right? I need to get over myself, follow my destiny, do what I came here to do._

Bow nodded, a concerned crease between his eyebrows. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Adora pushed down her fears, and two days later, she stood shoulder to shoulder with Bow in Bright Moon’s courtyard. A cool light crept over the woods, setting the stone floors in shadow. The short walls were lined with guards. Far above them, Adora could just make out the Queen’s lighter silhouette against the darkened tower of the throne room.

Glimmer approached them, carrying the sword awkwardly in front of her. She inclined her head to Adora, offering the hilt. 

_I have to do this._

Adora reached out a trembling hand, but as soon as she touched the cold metal, she was again engulfed in a flash of light. 

_—walking through the woods, birds chirping—_

_—a clear path in front of her, plants moving out of her way, guiding her—_

_—a stone door, covered in geometric markings—_

Adora gasped, and the sword clanged to the cobblestones. “The sword wants me to go somewhere—it gave me directions to a place in the woods.”

Glimmer looked back towards her mother worriedly, but Adora ignored her.

Adora bent and picked the sword up warily, but it was calm, this time. She swung it in front of her, feeling the heavy blade almost lead her into the next form. Staffs were more up her alley; she’d never found a sword that felt right. But this one… it was perfectly balanced, almost as though it had been forged specifically for her. 

She finished the kata with the sword held in front of her, but she felt her arms begin to rise again, until the sword was high above her head, pointed into the grey-blue sky. The words poured out of her. 

“For the honor of Grayskull!” 

Her feet left the ground. Heavy armor enclosed her torso. A cold metallic circle settled on her head. Soft hair fluttered against the backs of her thighs. 

The undercurrent of fear was overpowered by the electricity flowing through her veins. She could do _anything._ She was pure power. The fifty-or-so nervous guards in the courtyard didn’t pose a threat. Even the Queen, as she floated down from her turret in awe, didn’t faze her.

Adora let a clear laugh ring out. It bounced off the stone walls. It was definitely her voice, but the loud, disembodied laughter was distorted, unnerving.

Adora looked down slightly to the Queen, whose eyes were wide and sparkling. The Queen reached out an arm to Adora’s shoulder, but paused. 

“Are you… is this real?”

“Yes, it’s real.” At least, Adora thought so? 

Adora performed the kata again, and the soldiers backed against the walls to give way to the sweeping sword. It was almost weightless, and flew through the air without any resistance. She had the sense that the sword could cut through pretty much anything: stone, metal, it didn't matter. 

Adora wasn’t allowed to train against the other soldiers as She-Ra, for safety reasons (although Adora suspected that they also didn't want her to kill the entire Rebellion army and then run back to the Horde). Either way, and despite the overwhelming power thrumming through her, she was glad that she could transform back into Adora after only a couple of minutes of being gaped at. 

The loss of energy inside of her was staggering. Adora heard the sword clatter to the ground, and fell to her hands and knees. She’d always been proud of her strength; she could outperform even much older members of the Horde army, and she felt confident in her body’s ability to succeed. But to come back to her… _human_ body after living in something so much better… it was like the one time in her life she’d been sick. 

Catra had tried to urge her out of bed, and Shadow Weaver had even come to prod her into standing, but she literally didn’t have the physical capacity to move from her bed. The difference in power between She-Ra and Adora was just as great as the difference between Adora and sick Adora. And now that she’d felt She-Ra’s vast energy… 

_She’s still a princess,_ Adora tried to remind herself. _This isn’t a good idea. I can’t let myself grow too dependent on her._

But _damn… and her hair though..._

They went into the Whispering Woods that same day, following the path Adora had seen in her vision. Adora was permitted to take the sword (although she saw how closely Glimmer watched her), and wore it strapped tightly to her back. 

Adora found that she could read the inscription on the stone door, and it opened into a dark, eerily lit chamber. 

A woman appeared—a hologram—Light Hope. She explained to Adora her role as She-Ra, her responsibilities to restore balance to Etheria after a thousand years of unrest. 

Adora absorbed as much of the information as she could, cataloguing it like she had lectures back in the Horde. But eventually, Light Hope seemed to have wound down, and Bow and Glimmer, who had been listening intently for hours, finally left to explore other parts of the vast castle, so Adora was free to ask the important questions.

“Why have I been having these dreams—these visions?” Adora pleaded. “Are they—do they have to come true? Or are they just, I don’t know, a warning?”

“The visions you see are truth, although they may also be interpreted as warnings.”

 _What the hell does that mean,_ Adora thought, but Light Hope had already moved on, and was asking her if she’d had any visions of Mara, but Adora interrupted. 

“Light Hope, everyone keeps talking to me about the number on my wrist, and I don’t know why. Is it—what does the number represent?”

“Each First One was designated for another based on the numbers on their wrists. Etherians have numbers that function in much the same way. She-Ra’s partner possessed partial access to the runestone.”

Well, that raised more questions than it answered. “What does ‘designated for another’ mean? How do I know who my… partner is?” 

Her mind flashed to Catra—they’d always done everything together: slept together, trained together, danced together, protected each other. If she could choose anyone to be her partner—

“You will know when the time is right, Adora,” Light Hope said in her pseudo-soothing voice, and Adora sighed. 

_Guess I’ll have to ask someone else._

Adora was glad to have learned more about She-Ra. She felt much less overwhelmed by the unknown, now, and much more overwhelmed by the sheer amount of responsibility placed on She-Ra. Balance Etheria, fight for the Rebellion, learn how to control her powers, find her partner…

They played three more games of chess that night. Glimmer fought hard to win the first, but Adora won the second two. 

Adora found herself relaxing more and more in the presence of Glimmer. The comforting, added weight of the sword on her back definitely helped. It didn’t matter what Glimmer tried; as long as Adora had the sword, she could fight back. 

As Bow and Glimmer left her room, Adora prepared herself for bed. She laid there for hours, staring at the glittering, purpley ceiling. _I miss you—what does “balance Etheria” even mean—I hope I see you again soon—what if I have to face my friends on the battlefield—Catra, I hope you come with me next time—what in the world is a “designated partner”—_ and she finally rolled out of bed, socked feet freezing against the marble floor, and burst out of her room to pace the hallways. 

Adora found herself lingering in front of a mural at the end of a hallway two floors up. There were two Horde soldiers depicted in grey off to the side, charging towards a man with a short beard and a staff topped with a crescent moon. Despite his lack of facial features, the man looked… noble. 

“Adora?” 

She started, turning around. It was the Queen. She tried and failed to stop her socked feet from spinning on the too-smooth floor, and fell flat on her butt at the Queen’s feet. She stood, saluting sharply, blushing. “Queen Angella! Um, hi. What are you doing here?” 

“Today was… a very busy day, as I’m sure you’re aware. And on days when I feel overwhelmed, or when the Rebellion receives news, I like to come here to see…” she gestured at the man on the mural. “My husband, King Micah.” 

Adora nodded knowingly. _What’s a husband?_

The Queen looked at her, and must have seen the confusion spreading across her face, because she explained. 

“Micah and I… we promised to spend our lives together. We discovered that we were soulmates when we were very young—it’s easier for princesses, you know—and just a few months after we found out, we held a ceremony to… make it official.”

Adora tried to keep her face smooth, but the Queen was just as good at reading emotions as Shadow Weaver. 

“Adora, do you… have you not heard of soulmates?” 

“Of course I have! It’s like, when people…” But Adora couldn’t even make up an explanation, she had so little idea what the Queen was talking about.

The Queen had a small, sad smile on her face, but she motioned for Adora to take a seat on a cushioned bench below the mural. The Queen sat gracefully next to Adora, angling in towards her. 

“Adora, are you familiar with the concept of destiny?” 

“Yes,” Adora said proudly. “Shadow Weaver always told me—y’know, back in the Horde—that because of my high number, I was destined to help the Horde conquer Etheria. So I guess it’s like, the plan for your future life?” 

“That is correct. Your soulmate is someone you are destined to be with, to spend your life with. They are chosen by the universe to bring you light in darkness, happiness in misery, and peace in war.” She sighed, a sadder sound than Adora had thought possible from the stately woman, and her wings fluttered closer to her back, protecting her. 

“It is essential to the happiness of mankind that we not spend our lives alone. We were not meant to suffer through the trials of life unaided. So the universe provided a way for each of us to find this person.” The Queen pulled a long, white glove off of her left wrist. She rubbed at it, eyes downcast. 

The Queen proffered her arm to Adora, who looked down at it with interest. 

It was blank, the skin completely clear. 

“Micah, my soulmate—” her breath caught, but she steadied herself. “He died during the Horde’s last attack on Bright Moon, ten years ago. And the moment he was gone, I… felt it. I felt completely alone, for the first time in thirty years.”

Adora bowed her head. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I’m sorry for what the Horde did, and I’m—sorry.” 

“Don’t worry about it, dear girl,” the Queen said, gently lifting Adora’s chin. “It’s been many years, and I have recovered as much as can be expected.” 

But Adora could see the shadowy light in the Queen’s eyes, so much dimmer than Glimmers’. She saw the deep sadness and despair in the Queen’s tears, in her low shoulders and crossed legs. Adora could imagine a world where this woman didn’t have Glimmer to fight for anymore either, and she saw the Rebellion disintegrate completely under the command of a broken woman.

 _How could another person have so much control over her?_ Adora thought. _How could she let herself be so weak?_

But Adora remembered how her heart broke when she found a tiny, fuzzy Catra sobbing, confused and terrified by her first nights in the Fright Zone. She remembered laughing hysterically, Catra smirking, while they pulled pranks on Kyle, hiding his mattress so he had to sleep on the concrete ground. She remembered the golden glow she’d felt as Catra curled for the first time at the foot of their bed.

She remembered the hole in her chest that appeared the moment Catra turned to leave her on the battlefield, and the devastating emptiness she’d felt ever since. She remembered her sleepless nights, her mirthless days. How long had it been since she’d genuinely smiled? How long had it been since she’d felt warm and whole? 

“Queen Angella, I want to know if—how do I know who my soulmate is?”

“Adora, I—” the Queen took a deep breath. “It’s much easier for princesses to discover their soulmates, because depending on their access to the runestones, a princess' number may change. For example, before I gave birth to Glimmer, the number on Micah’s wrist was a seven. But since her birth, the number dropped to a five, because we then shared the runestone’s power. While Micah and I were already sure that we were soulmates—his had changed, before, so he knew it had to be a princess—this solidified our knowledge even further.” 

“For you, Adora, it will be even easier than that. I presume that each time you transform into She-Ra, the number on your soulmate’s wrist will increase, and each time you transform back, it will return to normal.”

The Queen looked conflicted, and her mouth opened, but she closed it, nodding to herself. “So when the time is right, Adora, you will discover who your soulmate is. For your sake, I hope yours brings you more joy than mine has.” 

Adora’s stomach sank. If it was Catra—and _God_ , did some part of her wish it was—she didn’t think that joy was very likely.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Adora smiled, standing stiffly from the cushioned bench. “You’ve given me… even more to think about.” 

The Queen laughed softly, rising to her feet as well, towering over Adora. “Of course, Adora. And you may call me Angella, please. You know me well enough for that, now.” 

“Okay, Angella,” Adora tried, but it felt weird. 

“May I…” Queen Angella looked around for a second, her awkwardness at great odds with her regal bearing. “May I hug you?” 

Adora froze, but nodded, holding her arms out. 

Angella held her close, and Adora felt herself inexplicably relaxing. As Angella’s wings wrapped around her, too, Adora didn’t feel claustrophobic, she felt… safe, like when Catra slept behind her, wrapped around her, protecting her. 

Adora slept well the remainder of that night, alone in her bed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading! lmk your thoughts on stuff ;) 
> 
> also HUGE thanks to womenlovingwonderwoman who's the literal best
> 
> had to split this chapter into two so it's not quite as long as expected :) but you'll notice a couple of chapters have been added in the original... 14. so.
> 
> next chapter will probs be up Saturday!


	11. confrontation ii

The huge double doors to her room slammed open, and Adora jolted up from her bed, dagger in hand. “Where’s the fire?” She slurred. 

Glimmer squinted at the dagger and backed up, well out of Adora’s reach. “No fire,” she almost smiled, but the quirk in her lips slid off. “But the Horde is attacking.” 

Adora shook herself awake, and pulled on her pants, reaching for her shirt. “What? They’re here? Why didn’t I hear—” 

“Not here, but in Plumeria, a neighboring kingdom. We can be there in two hours by horse, and we should be able to help.” The _if they’re still alive_ was implied, but Adora heard it loud and clear in Glimmer’s unusually pale face. 

“Let’s go, then,” Adora said, slipping into her jacket and strapping the sword to her back. 

Aside from her capture three weeks ago, where she’d been thrown awkwardly onto the back of a horse, this would be Adora’s first time riding a horse. While the creatures were beautiful and majestic, actually riding them was not particularly comfortable, especially not at the speed they were going. Fortunately, the way was flat enough, and void of trees, so it was mostly a straight shot. But still, Adora’s thighs _hurt_. 

She held tight to her borrowed horse’s reins, drumming her fingers on the saddle horn. Bow, who was riding level with her (along with Glimmer and the General), looked worriedly at her, but Adora waved him off. 

Adora re-tied her ponytail, making sure her bangs wouldn’t slip out in a fight. She’d fought the Horde before, but that’d been kind of a spur-of-the-moment decision. Adora hadn’t had two hours of uncomfortably fast horseback riding prefacing it, and she certainly hadn’t known she’d also have to fight Catra. 

But this time around, she’d had far too much time to think. If Catra was there, there was no denying they’d have to face one another. And if Shadow Weaver decided to show up… Adora shuddered. She wasn’t sure that she could stand firm in her decision against both Catra and Shadow Weaver, the two people she cared the most about. 

The General raised her hand, signaling a halt. 

Adora started— _are we there already?_ She scanned the entrance to a wooded area in front of them, slightly embarrassed. _I need to focus,_ she thought angrily, shaking her head to clear it. 

The General dismounted, and everyone followed her, sliding as quietly as they could to the ground. 

The tall, eerily naked trees were empty of sentries, as far as Adora could tell, and the General led them quietly into the copse. Adora fell in right behind her, eyes flickering across the branches, searching for a familiar form. 

Adora could just see the light dancing out from the trees before them that signalled an end to the forest when she heard a shout from the soldiers bringing up the rear. She whirled around, hands up, ready to fight. 

The back of their line had been ambushed, and was almost surrounded by Horde foot soldiers. But as Adora drew the sword someone screamed behind her. She looked back, torn, but the soldiers could fend for themselves. She sprinted off, leaving the skirmish in her dust. 

Adora emerged from the trees going full tilt, but screeched to a stop, almost stumbling over a body in front of her. _God._ Bile rose in her stomach, but she pushed it down, searching the small village, blanketed in smoke, for the source of the scream. But she could only see dark shapes of houses and trees through the smoke. 

A laser flew inches away from Adora’s head, and she ducked automatically, hiding by a wall. She held the sword in front of her— _She-Ra would be able to withstand a hit better than me._

“For the honor of Grayskull,” she whispered, and the transformation was quick. But she still couldn’t see— 

A figure emerged from the smoke in front of her, and Adora recognized the sharp, maroon facemask framing the glowing, oh-so-familiar eyes that Adora had woken up to for thirteen years, the mane of untamed (but somehow still soft) hair, the lithe body covered in the edgiest clothes available in the whole Fright Zone. And she saw the new green-yellow badge sitting proudly on the belt, clashing horribly with the red.

“Hey, Adora.” 

“Congratulations,” Adora said genuinely. She could feel a bittersweet smile creeping onto her face. 

“Wow, you look dumb,” Catra sneered, stepping completely out of the smoke, prowling around her in a circle, trailing a claw against the white-gold uniform. “I can’t believe you’re willingly wearing a skirt.” 

Adora felt the fight leave her, and she let her posture slip a little, looking down at Catra. The little candle of hope she’d kept burning since their last encounter was being blown from side to side, flickering, but it was still lit. Catra was _seething,_ and her gibes _hurt,_ but Adora could sense just how much she cared under it all. She could see that Catra was in pain, and she wanted to fix it. 

“I’m so happy to see you, Catra. I missed you.” 

Catra paused in her circle, her ears flattening to her head, claw poking at Adora’s side, but she resumed her stalking, a wilder look in her eyes, digging deeper into the stiff uniform. “But don’t miss me enough to come back, right?” 

Adora sighed, closing her eyes. 

“They gave me your old position.Your cadets. When the Battle of Bright Moon was more or less a success, they gave me the room that was supposed to be yours. Everything just… fell in my lap.” Catra stopped in front of Adora, staring savagely up at her face. “Is this how you feel, all the time? People just give you what you want, when you want it?”

Catra reached up to Adora’s uniform collar, digging a claw in at the neck, pulling it down, ripping the fabric. “I’m the only Force Captain in the past ten years to dare to attack Bright Moon. I’m moving up in the Horde.”

Adora froze as Catra’s finger slid down her front. Catra held all the power—just a slip of her claw, and it wouldn’t just be catching the uniform any more—and Catra seemed so… _off_ that lashing out wasn’t out of the question.

When her claw reached Adora’s waistline, Catra paused, before reaching up to start again, digging deeper. “After this win, and maybe a couple others, I’ll be promoted. And soon enough, I’ll be running the place.” 

Adora felt the comfortable tug of claws against her skin, the familiar sensation of blood rising to the surface, but as the claws reached her stomach, they dug too deep, and Adora automatically slapped Catra’s arm away. “Catra, _stop—”_

Catra’s eyes narrowed, and she pounced at Adora’s chest. Adora didn’t have time—and she was knocked forcefully to the ground. Catra took advantage of her momentary dizziness to jump on top of her, pinning her arms above her head. 

But Adora had always been the stronger of the pair, and now as She-Ra, her advantage was increased tenfold. She twisted her arms, breaking Catra’s grip on her wrists, and lifted her hips to roll them over. Adora sat heavily on Catra’s midsection, hoping to get a hold, but Catra used her momentum against her and kept them rolling, until she could slip out of Adora’s flailing grasp. 

Catra disappeared into the smoke, and Adora spun around, searching. Something struck her from behind, and she whirled around, catching Catra’s arm before she could land another blow.

Adora’s eyes were caught by the black wristband covering Catra’s _8,_ and she couldn’t help but wonder… 

Catra caught Adora’s eyes and smirked, raising her wrist. “Interested in this?” She sneered. “As you should be. You must be wondering how I advanced so quickly in the Horde.”

Catra slipped her armband off, looking giddily at her wrist, before showing it to Adora. 

Her black 8 had been replaced by a gold 9. 

“Catra—” 

“Turns out, you were only holding me back,” Catra drawled, lifting a hand as high as she could reach it, trailing her claws on Adora’s neck. “I’m much better without you, much stronger.” 

“Catra, _please._ I learned something—something about our numbers.” Adora tugged off She-Ra’s golden bracer, displaying her black _9._ “They, uh, they can link people to one another, people who are meant to be together. And, um, if your number is changing, it’s because I’m She-Ra now, because you’re… meant to be on my side.” 

Catra froze, eyes wide and clear for just a second, before the fire returned. “Dammit, Adora! So what, you think you got _stuck_ with me?” Catra turned away, tail swishing violently. “You can’t just believe _everything_ they tell you.” 

Adora frowned, stepping forward. “No, Catra, it _is_ because of me _,_ it’s because—” 

“Of _course_ you’d say that!” Catra hissed, spinning around, advancing. “Of _course_ you’d take responsibility for the one time in my life that everything is going right. Of _course_ you’d think that _my_ number going up is thanks to you.” 

Shivers ran up Adora’s spine. It’d only been a couple of weeks, but Catra’s anger, which was usually simmering underneath a more flippant attitude, was more awake than Adora had ever seen it. 

Catra pounced at her, and Adora ducked under her, spinning around. “Catra, _wait,_ your number is on _my_ wrist, you’re a _nine,_ you always have been—your number has always been higher than mine—” 

Catra pounced again—Adora was too slow to dodge, this time, and Catra swung around her neck, wrapping an arm around her in a chokehold. They fell to the ground, Adora bridging up, trying to escape, but Catra held her down from behind.

Adora remembered that night in the bathroom, holding a crying Catra close to her chest, filled with a strong, unidentifiable emotion. “Catra, please,” she choked out. “We’re meant to be together—”

“That’s not enough, Adora,” Catra said furiously, pulling tighter. “You never needed _me._ You just needed to be _important._ You need other people to need you. Well, guess what, Adora—I don’t need you. I never have.” 

The fire in Catra’s eyes consumed everything it touched, and the little flame of hope in Adora’s chest—made all the brighter by Catra’s changing number—flickered and went out, as Adora’s vision faded to black. 

* * *

Adora’s eyes blinked open. She felt a moment of pure panic—she didn’t know where she was—but the sword was still at her side, on the dusty ground, and she could make out the shapes of houses through the smoke. 

She can’t have been out for long—a minute, tops—but Catra was nowhere to be seen. The distant sounds of fighting had faded away, too. 

Adora rose gingerly to her feet. She was herself again, and felt exhaustion through to her bones. Her shirt was whole, and her chest had been healed of scratches. 

(She couldn’t help but think that it might’ve been nice to have one last souvenir to remember Catra by.) 

Adora jogged through the village, jacket over her mouth to filter out the smoke, but it looked like the Horde had left for good. 

Adora rejoined with the Rebellion regiment. She left with a few of them to ride slowly back to the castle. They’d driven off the Horde, sure, but not before the Plumeria had lost some people. Some had stayed behind to help rebuild, but it was still the first time Adora had seen war for herself, and her stomach lurched at the idea of seeing it again. 

The next few weeks passed in a haze. Adora went on the occasional mission, but she just transformed when the General told her to transform and went where the General pointed. She was… tired, and confused.

_I devoted the first eighteen years of my life to the Horde. I did everything they asked of me. I was gonna lead them to victory._

_But even then, a part of me belonged to Catra, didn’t it? Even before I understood belonging, I belonged to her. I promised to protect her, to always stay with her. If she’d have asked… I’d have done anything for her._

_But now… I’m promised to Etheria. She-Ra. I promised to fight for the Rebellion—for_ Good _. And I chose Etheria over the Horde, over Catra, because… how could I not? How could I put my own happiness over that of an entire planet?_

Adora remembered the fire in Catra’s eyes, the emptiness in her own heart. She wondered if either of them could survive this war, wondered if it’d even be worth it. She wondered if they could come back from this. 

Adora felt herself sinking, spiraling, but she found happiness in what she could: in the joyful faces of the people she protected, the delicious food, playing chess with Bow and Glimmer. They became… almost her friends. 

But… Adora was lonely, all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so sorry for the late chapter! I re-edited ch 10 before writing this one because it had some glaring issues that were killing me (like a sentence that had a repeated word in it--can't believe I didn't notice it earlier haha). next one will be up around Thursday, probably, but come bug me on Tumblr @iamasecret if it's not up/if you have questions/whatever
> 
> also a HUGE thanks to womenlovingwonderwoman for being a saint and editing this no fewer than three times... she's really a godsend. also she's writing a fic rn called "bid my mother to bear witness (won't be driven from my seat)" and it's the Catra-and-Glimmer-as-sisters fic that I never knew I needed. Catra is super gay (and notices every time Adora's eyes change from gray to gray-blue to blue-gray to blue) and Adora is in need of some love and I really recommend taking a look :) 
> 
> thanks again for reading!


	12. letter

Catra stalked back and forth in the command center. She’d scared her three force captains out after their weekly planning meeting, but Scorpia refused to acknowledge Catra’s intimidation and sat at the table in the center of the room, chattering away about who-knew-what.

Catra’s mind was whirring. Her endgame, months in the making, had finally come, and Hordak had even approved the plan over Shadow Weaver’s criticisms. She just needed to make some last-minute preparations—prepare a couple of rooms, write a letter—and the Rebellion would be hers for the taking. 

As the one who managed to finally take down the Rebellion, she’d be able to do anything she wanted in the Horde. She could rule the place. She could finally get rid of Shadow Weaver for good, and finally be free from this nightmare that was her life. 

She just needed to figure out the wording… 

“Scorpia.” She snapped, turning on the girl, who stopped mid-word, mouth open. “I’m going to dictate a letter to you.” 

Scorpia nodded excitedly. “Of course! Anything you need—” She fumbled around on the desk in front of her, her pincers closing awkwardly around a pencil, only for the pencil to snap in half. “Dang it,” she laughed, grabbing for another one. “My claws aren’t really made for this—” the second pencil cracked in two, sending a splinter at Catra’s face from across the room. 

Catra hissed, striding towards the table, snatching up a pen and a pad of paper. “Never mind. I’ll do it myself.” 

She scribbled until her hand hurt, claws digging deep into the pen’s plastic exterior, the words almost gouged into the paper. Scorpia talked away while Catra worked, sometimes reading over her shoulder (which Catra detested on principle but let slide for the moment, just so that she could finally finish this letter). 

She left her signature, proud and clear, at the bottom. _Yours truly, Force General Catra. As sanctioned by Hordak._

Scorpia flipped delightedly through the finished letter. “Wow, Wildcat. You’re—this is brilliant.”

Catra bared her teeth at the nickname, but with Scorpia, no amount of protestation would stop her, so she didn’t bother any more. 

“This really is—this could mean the end, couldn’t it?” 

“That’s the plan,” Catra grunted, tipping her chair back onto two legs and massaging her aching hand. “That’s the plan.”

If she looked dead-on at the red-and-black tendrils of _something_ creeping under the door, they’d disappear, so for her own sanity, she pretended they weren’t there. 

* * *

Adora didn’t know how many days, weeks, or months had passed when her monotonous life was interrupted by a very unexpected face at her door. 

The General, dressed-down in a simple uniform and no armor, extended her hand, and Adora shook it confusedly. 

“I’m Juliet,” the General smiled. “Somehow we still haven’t been properly introduced.” 

“Adora, or She-Ra, but—” Adora laughed self-consciously, stuffing her hands into her pockets. “You already knew that.” 

Juliet’s smile grew wider, and she nodded into Adora’s room. “May I come in? I’ve heard from Glimmer that you’re a formidable chess player, and thought I’d see for myself.” 

Adora opened the door wider, and Juliet walked in. Adora admired her shiny, deep purple hair, usually hidden by a helmet. _Maybe I should dye my hair._ She scrutinized a lock of her own, boring, dirty-blonde ponytail. It smelled weird, too. _Or maybe I just need a shower_.

A muted laugh sounded from the other end of her room, and Adora looked up, face hot, but Juliet was twisting back away from her and began setting up the chessboard. 

Juliet had a familiar air about her, and it was only after they had set up the board and Juliet had offered to take black that Adora could put a name to it. Juliet ran in high circles in Bright Moon, and she was friends with the Princess Alliance, but she was, at the root of it all, a soldier. 

Her back was ramrod-straight, even as she sat deep in the pillow-laden couch. Her movements were sure, and exhibited an underlying strength. She spoke seldom, but with authority. And Adora remembered her commanding air in battle, the respect and love she had for the soldiers under her care. 

Juliet represented everything Adora had wanted to be as a Force Captain. 

As Adora took Juliet’s knight, she found herself mimicking the General, back straightening, face relaxing, movements becoming less shaky and more confident. As Juliet took her bishop in retaliation, Adora felt a flicker of friendly rivalry. As Adora cornered Juliet’s queen and took it, she felt her eyebrows draw low and a competitive smile stretch across her face. This was _fun._

Juliet stared at the board, nonplussed. “How—” 

Adora just smirked back, folding her arms across her chest. 

And the General tipped her king over in defeat. 

Adora whooped, jumping up from her chair, which tipped over behind her. She flushed and righted it, but couldn’t help a secretive fist pump. 

Juliet just chuckled, shaking her head at both Adora and the board. “Damn, girl. I really have no idea how you managed that. I haven’t been beaten in quite a while.” 

A light, happy laugh escaped Adora. She leaned over the board, surveying her dominion. 

“Let’s do that again, shall we?” Juliet grinned. “See if it was just beginner’s luck.” 

But they had only just rotated the board and begun to set it up again when a sharp knock rattled the door in its hinges, and not a second later, a guard ran into the room, breathless. 

“General Juliet. She-Ra. You are needed in the council room.”

Adora had participated in planning meetings before, with the full Princess Alliance, but these meetings were planned for weeks in advance. The next meeting wasn’t until the afternoon. This summons had come too suddenly, and it had her worried. 

The seats were all already filled by the time they entered the chamber, but the normal chatter was missing. The princesses sat in nervous silence, while Angella pored over a letter. And, most noticeably, Glimmer’s chair was empty. 

As the doors closed behind them, Angella set the letter down on the table, and Adora took her seat next to Glimmer’s empty one. 

“Where’s—” she started, but Angella shook her head despairingly, and Adora cut herself off, heart pounding fast. _No—_

“Thank you all for gathering on such short notice,” the Queen said softly. “This morning, a messenger brought us this missive.” She laid her hand on the letter. “In it, a Horde general describes how they took—they captured my Glimmer.” The Queen sighed, and she wiped delicately at a tear rolling down her cheek. 

Adora gaped, and heard her own surprise mirrored in gasps from the princesses around her. Entrapta began a lecture on kidnapping statistics, and she thought she heard Mermista swear under her breath. 

“They offer a deal in this letter,” the Queen continued. “They will exchange Glimmer’s life for my captivity.”

Adora was reeling. Glimmer’s _life?_ They were planning to kill Glimmer? And, what, they wouldn’t kill Angella? 

General Juliet seemed to share Adora’s concerns, and beckoned for the letter. Angella handed it over, before resting her head in her hands. 

Adora remembered Angella confiding in her, months ago. She remembered the broken woman who had sat in front of her, the woman who lived only for two things: the Rebellion, and her daughter. And now… would the Rebellion be able to survive without her? 

Adora let her heart, torn between Catra and the Rebellion, out of its cage for long enough to know that in the end, Angella didn’t really have much of a choice after all.

“Angella,” Juliet murmured to the Queen. “You must know that they don’t plan to keep you alive.” 

“I don’t care,” Angella whispered, voice muffled and pained through her fingers. “I really… just don’t care.” She lowered her hands, wiping at the tears streaming down her cheeks. “They have _Glimmer._ They have my child. And it’s _my_ fault. I should have had her better guarded. I should have… I’ll be _damned_ if they take her from me.” 

Angella stood from her throne, wings oddly still behind her, and took a deep breath. “I will not, however, leave the Rebellion unprotected.” She looked at each of the princesses in turn, her eyes landing on General Juliet. “We have fought this war together for decades, and you understand its intricacies just as I do, Juliet. While Glimmer—” her breath caught, but she persevered—“Glimmer will be Queen, she is not prepared to take control of the Rebellion. You are to help her with anything she needs. Understood?” 

“Yes, ma’am,” the General stood and saluted smartly, her face drawn and worried. 

“I will need paper and a pen, please, Juliet,” Angella said, turning to leave the room. 

Adora stood, reaching out. “Queen Angella, wait. This can’t be the only option.” 

Angella’s back rise and fell with a deep, deep breath, before she turned to face the room. “Adora,” she sighed, gliding slowly closer. “This is Glimmer’s _life_ we’re talking about here. I cannot play around with this _.”_

Adora nodded, feeling tears welling up in her eyes. “I understand, Angella. I really do. But can we at least take a few minutes to plan? What time do you need to turn yourself in by?” 

Angella looked at her sorrowfully, reaching up to cup her cheek, and pulling her into a tight hug. Adora relaxed into it, her heart slowing, and she felt Angella press a kiss to the top of her head. “Adora,” the Queen sighed. “I am so sorry. But unless you can come up with a plan in the next hour, this is the choice I’ve made.” 

“Can I read the letter?” Adora asked, leaning back slightly in the Queen’s embrace. “I know the Horde better than anyone here; I might find a loophole, or a bluff, or… something.” 

Angella let her go reluctantly, and Adora took the proffered letter, reading it quickly. The sentences told of unspeakable things, an awful plan, but the familiar cadence of the words rang of soft, fuzzy skin, a comfortable embrace, sharp eyes hiding vulnerability. 

_Yours truly, Force General Catra._

Adora closed her eyes against the incriminating signature. _Catra wouldn’t—_ but it was all right there, in the letter. Catra _would,_ and she _had._

Adora squared her shoulders. _I can fix this. I have to fix this._ She couldn’t let Angella, or Glimmer, or anyone— _there has to be a way out of this._

A plan began to form in her mind. It was risky, and Adora’s heart fluttered nervously at the thought of it, but it was really the only option they had. 

She explained her plan to the Queen, who stared at her, calculating. “Adora,” she said, finally, “do you really trust her that much? Do you really think that she—who was willing to kill Glimmer, and willing to kill me, would stop at you?” 

Adora stood steady, feet shoulder width apart, looking straight into the Queen’s eyes. “I trust her with my life, Your Majesty.” _I have to believe in her. This is the Rebellion’s only chance._

Angella clasped her hands in front of her, bowing her head. “Then you may try,” she sighed. “I pray that you are right.”

* * *

The Fright Zone had not changed at all in the months Adora was gone. The empty space between the Whispering Woods and the metal structure was still patrolled every seven-and-a-half minutes by a pair of guards, which were easy enough to avoid with their small group. The codes to the doors had changed, but Adora had figured out the pattern they used years ago, and so they were easy enough to guess. It was past curfew, so the metal hallways, walls scratched in the same places, were empty of soldiers. Guards still patrolled through them every two to three-and-a-half minutes. 

But Adora had changed. The metal walls, so familiar, no longer felt like home. The hiss of the door as it closed behind them worried her, rather than protecting her from the dangers of outside. 

It also didn’t help that she was She-Ra for the moment, and her perspective on the place was significantly different now that she’d gained a foot and a half of height. 

They turned at the end of the hallway, and Adora pointed towards an information pad to her left. 

“Ooh, is that a high-powered automatic data processing machine? Very interesting,” Entrapta said, walking entranced to the pad on her hair. Bow stumbled behind her, pulled by the strings attaching her to his belt. 

“We’re just looking to find where they put Glimmer, Entrapta,” Adora whispered. “Stay focused.” 

Entrapta hummed in agreement, fingers and hair already tapping away at the pad.

Adora stood behind them, looking from side to side (so quickly that her neck started to twinge, even as She-Ra) to keep an eye out for anything unusual. They should have another two minutes here before the guards would rotate through again, but… 

She heard a squeak from the hallway to her left, and she spun, searching. 

A tiny figure cowered at the end of the hallway. It turned and started to run away. 

_“Lou?”_ Adora whisper-shouted after them. She started down the hallway, transforming back into Adora. 

Lou turned around, face full of fear and confusion, but saw Adora and ran towards her. 

Adora knelt to the ground, arms wide, and they gave her a cautious hug. She laughed quietly into their tangled hair. “Lou! What are you doing here?” 

Lou drew back, looking at her suspiciously. 

“Right,” Adora breathed nervously. “I guess a better question would be what I’m doing here, huh.” 

They stepped out of her reach warily, waiting. 

“Well, one of my friends is in trouble, and we have to get her out,” Adora whispered. “Nobody can know that we’re here, Lou. It’s really important.” 

Lou considered, eyebrows drawn together, bottom lip drawn under their teeth. “Okay, Force Captain,” they whispered, finally. “I trust you.” 

Adora ruffled their hair, before waving them away. “You’ve got thirty seconds before the guards show up—get back to bed!” 

Entrapta had finished her search and had found nothing, so they rushed through the hallway to the closet Adora had planned to hide in until the next set of guards passed. Adora’s thoughts were all over the place, but she harnessed them. _Focus. Just long enough to get Glimmer out._ Plan A was the pad, but clearly Glimmer was a much more secure prisoner than most, so she wouldn’t be kept track of like the others. 

Plan B was to check through the prison cells manually, so after Adora heard the guards pass, she transformed quietly back into She-Ra, opened the door, and the three of them snuck down to the prison block. 

They had only just passed the mess hall when the hairs on the back of Adora’s neck stood up. 

“Hey, Adora,” she heard, and she exhaled, expelling all of the air out of her body. 

“Hey, Catra,” she said, turning slowly. _Please, Catra, please listen to me, just this once, this has to work, I don’t have any other choice, I’m Glimmer’s last chance._

She manually reignited the candle of hope in her chest, and let a smile fall onto her face. “I’ve—” 

“Don’t start, Adora,” Catra hissed, crouching down, unsheathing her claws. “You haven’t missed me, and I haven’t missed you. Let’s just get this over with.” 

She pounced, and Adora blinked, dodging just in time. Catra was backlit by an eerie red-purple light that moved with her as she prowled around Adora, before jumping off the wall to strike again at Adora’s chest. It almost reminded Adora of… but no, that wasn’t possible. She wouldn’t _dare—_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for sticking with me <3
> 
> this chapter honestly wrote itself so you get it two days early! it felt like it already existed and I was just the portal for its escape into the world. idk. it was a magical experience. 
> 
> also huge thanks to womenlovingwonderwoman (again) b/c she's the literal best. also she just posted a new chapter of "bid my mother to bear witness (won't be driven from my seat)" that you should check out b/c it's beautiful and heartrending. also follow her on tumblr @womenlovingwonderwoman for more content
> 
> next chapter will probs be up... Saturday. or Sunday. but come bug me on tumblr @iamasecret to remind me to write it b/c sometimes the mood just doesn't strike and it doesn't get written lol


	13. blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which: Catra takes her shirt off for Adora
> 
> trigger warnings for this chapter. descriptions in the end comment so there aren’t any spoilers up here. but please, take care of yourselves :)

“I’m honestly surprised that you’re here,” Catra smirked, pushing down her nausea at seeing Adora as the dumb, glowy princess. “I didn’t think anyone in the Rebellion would have the guts to put the life of their Princess on the line. But I guess I underestimated your stupidity.” 

Adora recoiled at her gibe, but managed to shake it off. _Good for you, Adora,_ Catra thought. _You’d better grow a spine, because these are just going to keep coming._

Adora glanced over her shoulder. “Bow, Entrapta, get out of here. You have to find Glimmer,” she said, and Catra snuck around her blind side, tiptoeing soundlessly. “I’ll keep her busy,” Adora continued.

Catra rolled her eyes, suppressing a laugh. _As if._ She aimed a spinning kick at Adora’s back, but at the last second Adora spun, barely dodging it.

Catra had fought Adora thousands of times. Their past two encounters, Catra had relied on the element of surprise to come off on top. But this time, Adora was ready, and they were in such a small, isolated space that it’d be a true fight. 

They circled one another, footsteps careful and calculated. Catra crouched low, and Adora’s stupid avatar kept her hands up, defending her chest. 

As they danced their familiar dance, dodging and weaving, pushing and pulling, attacking, defending, and retreating, Catra felt an easy anger settle in her bones. Adora was holding back. She was still too trusting, even after Catra hurt her time and time again. 

Catra landed a solid hit on She-Ra’s cheekbone. _That’ll bruise,_ she thought, pleased. 

But Adora brushed it off, falling back into her defensive pose. 

“Come on, Adora!” Catra yelled, striking again, landing a kick in She-Ra’s midsection. 

Adora doubled over, coughing once, but raised her arms in time to catch Catra’s next punch. She backed away warily. 

“Fight back!” Catra screamed at her. “Hit me!” 

“Catra…” Adora sighed, lowering her arms, leaving her torso defenseless. “I never wanted to fight you.” 

Catra felt her easy anger consume her, swelling from a bonfire to an inferno. 

It was her body moving, it was her claws scratching at She-Ra’s face and throat, it was her fury fueling her actions, but it didn’t feel like her. She felt a disembodied horror at herself, an indescribable anguish, an overpowering sorrow. 

She-Ra fell to her knees in front of Catra, staring, surprised, at the blood. “Catra—” 

The world went dark.

Catra came to, blinking. _Damn._ Her head _hurt,_ a pounding waterfall on her brain _,_ and her claws itched, fingers slipping against each other. She raised them to her eyes and tried to focus, but no matter how much she blinked, her head was spinning too much to make anything out besides _black_ and _red._

She heard an awful, wet gasp from in front of her, and crawled forward, searching, until she ran into something warm. Her eyes finally focused on a red jacket, all-too-familiar blue eyes, and blonde hair dyed red. 

_“Adora—”_ she gasped, crashing back down to reality, hands reaching to cradle Adora’s face, tail wrapping around her waist. 

Adora was crying, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes into her hair, but she blinked at Catra and smiled a pained, apologetic smile. 

“Not your fault,” Adora choked out, but all Catra could hear was the rasp of blood in her lungs, all she could see was a tongue stained too-red. 

“Adora, _what—”_ her voice cracked, and she swallowed against the painful lump in her throat. There was too much blood—her knees were damp with it— 

Catra refocused. There was still time—she just had to remember her first aid training—

She started with the bloodiest—a nauseatingly deep laceration in Adora’s leg. Too deep for a bandage. She’d need a tourniquet. She stripped off her shirt, tearing it into strips with her claws, tying it two fingers above Adora’s kneecap. The rib cage would be harder— 

“Catra,” Adora whispered. “Look at me.” 

Catra looked up. She was full of adrenaline, and she knew her eyes would be wild, her teeth bared in frustration, and she could feel tears leaking down her cheeks. 

Adora met her gaze confidently, even as her eyes unfocused and her breathing sped up. 

“Gonna be okay,” Adora said, her hand reaching up to caress Catra’s face. “Don’t worry. Not your fault.” 

And her hand slipped limply off to the ground. 

Catra froze. Adora’s eyes were empty, her face had been wiped blank, and her body had stilled. 

_No no no no no no no—what have I done—Adora, no, Adora, come back,_ Adora _—_

She heard a disembodied wailing, and a scream somewhere off in the distance. Figures appeared in front of her. Sparkles came at her face, and Catra fell over backwards, but rolled back, crawling to crouch protectively over Adora’s body. 

“What’ve you done?” Someone cried. 

Shadow Weaver was here, in front of Catra. “You _idiot,”_ she hissed. 

She was hit again—some kind of arrow?—and they took Adora quicker than she could recover. 

As they disappeared, Shadow Weaver holding the princess’ hand, the boy carrying Adora, Catra was left in the dimly lit hallway. Her legs were soaked, her hands, her arms—it was even in her hair. But despite the overpowering nausea she felt from being covered in blood— _Adora’s_ blood—she couldn’t move, until— 

Her wrist itched, and she tore off the wristband, eyes wide, hopeful—

She saw the remnants of a black _8_ fading from her wrist. 

_No…_

She sat in the corridor for what might have been weeks, staring at the steel wall across from her. 

_“I care about you, Catra,_ so much _.”_

Catra heard her own gasps echoing on the walls. 

_“I don’t know what I do without you.”_

The noise only made her breathe faster, heavier. 

_“Catra, you should come with me!”_

Blood pounded in her ears— 

_“I’m so happy to see you, Catra. I missed you.”_

Her vision was going fuzzy. 

_“You’ll only ever bring Adora down.”_

It was so cold— 

_“You’ll only ever hurt her.”_

So hot— 

_“This is_ your _fault. I always knew you’d be her downfall. You make her weak.”_

She couldn’t get enough air— 

_“If you had left her alone when I ordered you to, this never would have happened.”_

A calming voice permeated Catra’s hysteria. 

“Hey, Wildcat,” Scorpia soothed. 

Catra looked up at her, and she hated how scared her expression must be, how pitiful she must look to merit an expression like _that._

“I need you to breathe with me, okay?” Scorpia asked, softly. “In for four—two, three, four—out for four—two, three, four.” 

Catra tried to breathe—she wanted out of this, _whatever_ it was—she tried so hard, but she couldn’t—

“Relax,” Scorpia said, comforting. “Stop thinking so much. Just breathe. In for four—two, three four—out for four—two, three four.” 

Little by little, Catra’s breathing slowed, until she could feel her hands again, she could focus on the walls around her. She didn’t look down. 

Scorpia reached out for her, hesitating, but Catra nodded her permission, before Scorpia pulled her into a tight hug. 

Catra just breathed, letting herself be held. 

Scorpia swept her legs out from under her, after a minute, picking her up completely. She carried her for a couple of minutes before locking a door. Bathroom. Catra caught sight of herself in a mirror. There was a red handprint half on her cheek, half on her headpiece, streaked through with tears. But Scorpia turned her away from the mirror, setting her gently on the ground. 

She heard running water, and Scorpia crouched in front of her, a damp paper towel clutched between her claws. “Can I—” 

Catra nodded, exhausted, closing her eyes. Scorpia was surprisingly gentle, despite her less-than-delicate pincers. 

_We always said it was going to be you and me together at the end of the world, so this can’t be the end, right? Not yet._

Scorpia wet a second paper towel, dabbing at Catra’s cheek, starting on her arms. 

_But we also promised to protect each other, and here we are._

While Scorpia was wetting her seventh or eighth paper towel, Catra reached up to her headpiece, sliding it up off her head. She held it on her lap, bowing her head, letting her hair fall into her face. 

_Here’s the end of your world, but mine keeps spinning._

It felt so inherently, viscerally _wrong_ to live in a world without Adora, that maybe she… _shouldn’t_. 

Scorpia finished with her hands, finally, and looked at Catra’s pants. “Sorry, Wildcat, but I think you’re going to need to deal with the rest of this on your own,” she said quietly. 

Catra nodded. Even a shower would be better than all… _that._ She stood up, clutching her headpiece in one hand. 

Scorpia turned away. “I’ll get you some new clothes.” 

“Scorpia,” Catra whispered. Her voice was broken, ragged. 

“Yeah?” Scorpia asked, spinning back around. 

Catra hesitated, before offering Scorpia her maroon headpiece. “Take this, would you?” 

Scorpia blinked, scrunching her nose. “Wildcat—” 

“Get me the clothes,” Catra growled, but it lacked any of her usual bite. “And thank you, or whatever.” 

Scorpia was still confused, her eyebrows drawn tightly together, but she gave Catra a half-smile. “Any time.” She came closer again, arms wide. 

Catra rolled her eyes, but she let Scorpia give her another hug—she really did give great hugs—before hitting the showers. Clean clothes were waiting for her when she got back. Not her normal pants—those were limited edition in the Fright Zone, unfortunately—but grey sweats, and a red tank top similar to her ruined one. 

Catra snuck into a Force Captain office, stealing the keys that Adora had taken, once upon a time. Dodging the guards was so much easier, without Adora clunking around. Driving the skiff was simpler, without Adora fighting her to drive it. 

The world was darker, without Adora to light it.

Too dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please forgive me
> 
> tw: major character injury, panic attack, suicidal thoughts. To avoid, read until “Catra came to, blinking,” and then skip all the way to… the end. I’m so sorry, this is a really intense chapter. 
> 
> Spoiler alert: here’s a summary. 
> 
> Catra and Adora fight. It’s a big one. Catra kind of… blacks out halfway through the fight, and she stays out for a chunk of it. She comes to with a dying Adora in front of her. Glimmer teleports Adora away. Catra has a panic attack—it was her fault, after all. Scorpia finds her after some time, and takes care of her. Catra takes off her headpiece, exhausted and broken. She thinks, we always said it was going to be you and me together at the end of the world, but here’s the end of your world, and mine keeps spinning. It feels wrong, to live in a world without Adora, so she decides that maybe she shouldn’t. 
> 
> sorry for the short chapter (and the awful cliffhanger). I'll post again tomorrow/Monday to make up for it. 
> 
> thanks to womenlovingwonderwoman for being the best person in the world
> 
> love you all <3


	14. parting gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: suicidal thoughts (just the very first section--skip to the bar, where it starts Adora's POV, to avoid)

Catra snuck into a Force Captain office, stealing the keys that Adora had taken, once upon a time. Dodging the guards was so much easier, without Adora clunking around. Driving the skiff was simpler, without Adora fighting her to drive it. 

The world was darker, without Adora to light it. 

Too dark. 

_This is my fault. I don't deserve to..._

She didn’t have the guts to finish this herself. She hadn’t even had the guts to really take down Adora, as Hordak had been commanding her to do for months, and to do it to _herself_ —she’d have to find another way. An easier way. 

* * *

Adora found Catra sitting, knees pulled to her chest, on the balcony railing. She paused, absorbing the scene: a dark silhouette against the colorful sunset. A sigh escaped her, and Catra’s ears tilted back. 

“How was it?” Catra asked, turning to face her, smiling faintly. 

Adora climbed next to her on the railing, hanging her legs over their garden, groaning. “So long.” She felt Catra wind her tail around her waist and sighed again, leaning sideways against Catra’s back, letting her head fall against Catra’s bare neck. “I understand the need to discuss the pros and cons of putting which guest in which guest room in these meetings, but still…” 

Catra huffed a laugh. “Princesses. You’re all the same.” 

They fell into an easy silence, watching the colors fade from the sky. 

As the night grew dark and cold, Adora wrapped an arm around Catra’s waist and turned, pressing a kiss to the collar of her shirt. 

“I love you,” Adora breathed, and felt Catra tighten her tail around her waist. 

“I love you too, dummy,” Catra groaned, but Adora could hear her soft, enamored smile. 

It was perfect.

But the balcony suddenly didn’t feel so solid beneath Adora, and she looked down at the garden. It was dissolving, turning into a million dots of light, scattering into the sky. She reached out—“ _Catra,_ don't—” but she was gone. 

Adora fell and fell and fell, for minutes—hours—days—she didn’t know. 

The dancing lights around her finally solidified into a solid floor, and Adora hit hard, curling into a ball. It hadn’t hurt, but it did feel weird to _not_ be falling. 

Catra was facing away from her, looking over a beautiful, bubbling river. It was night, but the sky wasn’t black; it was spattered with little lights that something deep inside Adora identified as _stars._

“—I was just so lost,” Catra sobbed, her tail curling around her own ankle. 

The wind whipped through Adora’s hair, pushing through her jacket, chilling her, but she fought it, walking towards Catra, embracing her from behind. She _had_ to protect her, stop whatever was hurting her, make her happy again. 

“It’s okay, Catra, I’m here,” Adora whispered. 

Catra turned in the hug, pulling Adora tight, burying her head into Adora’s collar. “I just—I was so—” 

“I know.” 

The wind picked up, stinging at her face, making her eyes water. Catra smelled like herself, like sweat and mint and berries, and Adora held her as close as she could. She leaned down, pressing her forehead against Catra’s. _Don’t leave me_. _You can’t leave me._

But the gusts of wind swept the river up, dissolved Catra from her arms into a million stars. 

The fall only lasted a minute before she landed on something firm and soft. _A bed?_

Adora cracked her eyes open. A white ceiling stared back at her, its bright fluorescent lights stabbing into her head. She squeezed her eyes shut, turning away. 

She could almost still feel Catra’s warmth.

Adora opened her eyes again, looking to her left. She felt a wave of affection sweep through her. Glimmer was slumped in a chair, sleeping on her fist, circles under her eyes. It looked like she hadn’t slept in ages. 

_Ages?_ Adora thought, panicked. She heard a heart rate monitor beep faster, somewhere off to the side, but she ignored it, pushing herself up to lean against the wall behind her. Something was wrong—something was awfully, terribly wrong—

She tore off the leads attached to her chest, pulled the sheets from her legs in a flurry, and went to swing her legs over the side of the bed. But while her left leg hung off the edge of the mattress, her right leg moved much more slowly. She stared at it, confused, and ran a hand down the leg, over the layers of bandages. 

Her hand ran down her thigh, onto her knee, and—she paused. Tried again. She felt it on her thigh, her knee—it stopped. She couldn’t feel her hand on her shin. She didn’t have any feeling below her right knee. She tried to wiggle her toes—nothing. 

_What the hell—_

Adora remembered, in a flash of nightmarish images, _so much_ worse than her earlier waking dreams: Catra’s magical aura, so reminiscent of Shadow Weaver. The eerie shadows that advanced down the hallway until it was shrouded in black. Catra’s eyes changing color from blue-and-yellow to purple. The overwhelming pain, the shock. Catra weeping, terrified. Reassuring Catra. Then nothing. 

_Catra. God, I hope she’s okay._

She remembered the number on her wrist—she pulled the bandages off, swearing as they got tangled—

Blank.

Adora made a strangled noise. _No, it can’t be—_

Glimmer startled awake next to her, rolling off of the chair and falling flat onto the ground. She jumped up. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she panted, hands on her knees. “I just—” she looked at Adora, who was staring shell-shocked at her wrist. 

“Adora, I’m so sorry,” Glimmer whispered, coming to sit beside Adora on the bed. “Shadow Weaver, she… well, she used her magic to help us get back, and then she said she was going back. Something about a plan going wrong? You weren’t supposed to die—you weren’t supposed to get this hurt: _Catra_ was. So she went back to finish the job. She was… terrifying.”

A cold wave spread over her. Adora didn’t move. She couldn’t. 

_Catra was supposed to get hurt? Finish the job? Catra was meant to die?_

_My number is gone. And Shadow Weaver said—she must have been furious—Shadow Weaver always hated Catra—Catra always thought Shadow Weaver would kill her one day—_

_Catra’s gone. The number’s gone. She’s dead._

_And Shadow Weaver killed her._

What plan had gone wrong? How did this make any sense? Why would Shadow Weaver want to control Catra like that? Had she wanted to hurt Adora—but no, Glimmer said— 

Maybe she’d been hoping that Adora would kill Catra, if Catra was out of control? But if so, she’d underestimated Catra’s skills, and she’d underestimated Adora’s care for her.

_She’s gone. And she’s not coming back._

Adora hunched over, letting her head fall into her hands. She felt tears dripping through her fingers, trailing down her wrists. Glimmer put an arm around her shoulders, but Adora was inconsolable. 

“Adora,” Glimmer murmured after a moment. “I’m so, _so_ sorry. I think… I know what she meant to you, and I can’t even… but… I’m so glad you’re okay. We were so worried—you were dead, for a minute. You’d lost too much blood. But they restarted your heart, and… I’m just glad you’re _alive_.” 

_I shouldn’t be. Not without her._

Since Adora had embraced her role as She-Ra, she’d always known that her first priority would be to the Rebellion. She’d accepted that it would tear her away from Catra. But she had _not_ accepted that it’d _kill_ her, take her away _forever._

The sword leaned against the wall by her bed, and she stood, startling Glimmer. She limped over to the sword, resting her weight on the bed frame, the bedside table, ignoring the pain. And she grabbed the sword by the hilt, throwing it as far as she could out the window. 

It was too late, but she’d do everything she could to remedy it. 

Glimmer cried out, teleporting out of the window, and reappeared after a second cradling the sword in her arms. 

Adora limped towards her. “Get it out of my sight,” she snarled. 

Glimmer nodded, eyes wide, and disappeared. 

Adora made her way back to the bed, sitting gingerly, pulling her right leg up onto the mattress before swinging her left up beside it. 

_Never again,_ she thought. _Not if these are the consequences. It’s not worth it. Never again. I should never have used it in the first place._

The hospital issued Adora a smooth, dark, wooden cane, and a brace for her lower leg. It took a lot of getting used to (and hurt like hell), but meant that she could walk almost normally. She couldn’t stand the pain long enough to go on a run, and she suffered for it. Sparring was okay, but wasn’t nearly as smooth or practiced as it had once been. 

She also requisitioned a wristband to cover the now-blank skin of her wrist. Out of sight, out of mind. 

A couple of days after her release from the hospital, a Force Captain from the Horde showed up: the red princess who’d sat next to Adora at Force Captain Orientation. As Adora sat in the Queen’s court, watching Scorpia fumble out her apologies to the Queen, she remembered her earlier terror of the princess, how she’d fallen out of her seat. _I’ve changed,_ Adora thought, and her leg throbbed in response. She was more confident, understood people better. For all the good that had done her. 

Scorpia explained how she’d been invited to join the Rebellion by Entrapta, and the Queen accepted her almost immediately. Adora thought that part of why she was accepted so easily was because of her honesty, her pure heart, her goodness, but she couldn’t help but wonder whether part of it was because Scorpia was a princess, too. 

_If I hadn’t been She-Ra, would they have accepted me?_

The day after she was presented to the court, Scorpia approached Adora in the garden, holding something in her claws. As she drew closer, Adora recognized Catra’s headpiece. 

_What—how—_ her hand covered her mouth, stifling a sob. She’d had proof, before, that Catra was gone: her wrist was blank; Shadow Weaver had gone back to kill her, and the phantom of a woman always carried out her threats; she felt _so empty._

But to see Catra’s _headpiece,_ Catra’s one possession, the one she’d worn even while asleep every night since she’d grown into it—

Not for the first time that day, she felt tears tracing hot lines down her cheeks. 

_She’s really gone._

Scorpia looked at her with sad, dark eyes, sitting next to her on the bench. “You, uh, meant a lot to Catra, even if she didn’t always know how to show it. She gave this to me before she… you know. I think she would’ve wanted you to have it.” 

Adora took the headpiece with a trembling hand, cradling it in her lap. It grew out of focus. She blinked angrily, wiping the tears away. “Thanks,” she choked out, and Scorpia nodded. 

“Can I give you a hug? I give really great hugs,” Scorpia divulged. 

Adora hesitated, but nodded. 

Scorpia really did give good hugs. 

Scorpia walked away, after a while, and Adora was left staring at the fragrant flowers, red and blue and yellow mixing to create a beautiful masterpiece. 

An idea sparked in her brain. A plan. She’d need the sword, and some rations. 

She told Angella she wanted some time alone to mourn, and Angella was too understanding. It was too easy to ask for the sword, in case she ran into trouble. It was too simple to take not days’, but weeks’ worth of rations from the kitchens. 

After all, who’d suspect She-Ra of treason?

She snuck out in the middle of the night. The guard patrols were spread thin, and even with her arm in a sling, bandages up her throat and across her chest, walking with a cane, Adora managed it without a hitch. 

The Whispering Woods were quieter than normal, almost as if they sensed her mood and didn’t want to anger her. The path to the Crystal Castle was clear and fresh, lit on either side by flowers glowing a luminescent blue.

The castle opened silently at her command. She followed her instincts in, twisting and turning in the labyrinth of passageways until she found a floating road glowing red, and _this is the place._

Adora pulled out the sword, nausea rising in her at its cool touch, its weighty presence in her mind. 

_Never again,_ she reminded herself, before letting her cane fall to the ground. The sword rose in front of her.

“For the honor of Grayskull!” She called, the name falling off her tongue like a curse, letting the power wash through her one last time. Her ribs knit back together, her throat healed, and she stood taller, putting her weight on both legs. 

Adora raised the sword as high as she could, before slamming it into the ground. Light Hope fizzled into existence in front of her, pleading with her to _wait, this is not the way,_ but Adora couldn’t have cared less. 

_I won’t be their weapon. I know it’s too late, but I choose this. I’ll still help, I can still fix this, but not if this is the price._

She slammed it again and again into the red path in front of her, letting her anger, her frustrations, and her sorrows out in the strength of the motion. 

_All She-Ra does is hurt people, which makes me no better than the Horde._

And finally, the sword fractured with a burst of energy. Adora fell to the ground, herself once again, before gathering the pieces into her backpack. She stood, but stumbled, her right leg giving out. 

_Leg was too damaged, already healed wrong,_ she thought indifferently, stooping down for her cane. _It’ll be one last thing for me to remember Catra by, I guess._

The castle fell apart behind her as she made her way out. 

The sun was up, now, and Adora squinted, blocking out the light to slow her headache. She had one last thing to do. 

Adora wandered through the woods for hours, searching for the perfect place. She finally found a small clearing beside a sparkling river, surrounded by blue and yellow flowers. _How could it be more perfect?_

She took a trowel from her backpack, kneeling a few feet off from the river, and began to dig. Dug until the blisters on her hands had their own blisters, and the hole was a couple of feet deep and about a foot across. 

Adora stuck the trowel into the ground and opened her backpack, pulling out a wrapped package. She pulled off the scarf, revealing Catra’s headpiece. She allowed herself a moment to stare at it, to remember, to feel, but she wrapped it again and set it carefully in the shallow grave. 

Adora rummaged again in her backpack, pulling out a second, more hastily wrapped bundle. The sword. She set the fragments of metal carefully into the grave as well, beside the headpiece. 

_It’s what Catra always wanted,_ she thought drily. _Me to give up on being She-Ra. Well, call it a parting gift._

She knelt in front of the open grave until her right leg ached, and she pulled it straight in front of her, laying down. She slept there that night, completely exposed but not able to care. And the next morning, at daybreak, she filled in the grave, and was on her way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> love you <3 please forgive me
> 
> hope you enjoyed (as much as this can be enjoyed)
> 
> thanks to womenlovingwonderwoman for editing--she adds a more profound layer to everything I write. she's amazing.
> 
> next chapter might take a minute to write. not sure when it'll be up. we'll say Saturday.
> 
> EDIT: sorry it's not ready yet, guys. the next two chapters are, like... 75% ready, but they're not quite there yet. I'll post one Tuesday/Wednesday and one the day after. sorry!!


	15. rebuilding

Adora lifted the beam carefully, resting it on her shoulders, before hoisting it above her head, where someone grabbed it, lifting it higher onto the roof. She crouched down, her weight on her left leg, and picked up the next beam. Sweat dripped into her eyes, strands of hair had come loose from her ponytail, sticking to her face, and splinters dug into her hands from the rough wood, but she appreciated the menial, mindless work. 

Adora pushed up the last beam, handing it off to the man above her, wiping the sweat from her face with her once-white shirt. The splinters would have to go—she pulled out the largest of them before taking her staff from where it leaned against the house’s new wall. 

The man above her climbed down, nodding his thanks. He was a vagabond, too, a deserter from the Rebellion army, and was trying to make  _ something  _ right in the world.

The village was somewhere around the outskirts of Plumeria. It was her fourth town since leaving Bright Moon, and it was by far the most war-torn; the Horde had only just passed through—probably one of Catra’s last commands—and the tanks’ plasma cannons had wreaked havoc on the modest, wooden houses. There’d only been one standing structure when she arrived, and it was packed with injured. A couple of weeks later, and they were up to a dozen-or-so houses. 

Rebuilding was  _ wonderful,  _ and she’d needed a break from the Rebellion, some time to stop thinking, mourn, and get her head back on straight. But Adora knew the Horde, and she knew the rigidity of their command structure. Replacing their Force General would take them some time—weeks, if the Rebellion was lucky—but—

She heard something, from the woods, not for the first time. A hiss, a whisper, a breath. 

_ “Time’s up,”  _ it sighed.  _ “They are coming.” _

That night, she left music and laughter and dancing of the village’s bonfire, to begin her journey back home through the low growls and glowing eyes of the Whispering Woods at night. What had once taken a little over two hours on horseback would take her almost half a day, well into the next morning. 

The sun rose on her walking, although she couldn’t see the colors through the thick foliage above her. The other animals awoke, giving the woods new life. 

When she finally saw the turrets of Bright Moon Castle appearing through the distant branches, she was exhausted from a day of hard work, followed by a substantial hike. Her jacket was a mess: torn across her forearms and through the shoulders, stained with dirt and sweat, and maybe a little blood. She’d washed it, at some point, but it was so long ago that it may as well have never happened. 

But she shrugged, pursing her lips. They’d have to deal with it. Her first command would probably be to take a shower and get a new uniform, but honestly, she needed it. 

As she passed through the village, one of the two guards standing on either side of the long bridge to the castle locked onto her. She saw their helmet follow her curiously, warily. When she was close enough that she could see through the tiny slits for their eyes, they finally recognized her, snapping to attention, eyes going wide. 

“Um, She-Ra, sir,” they stammered, and their co-guard slid off the column where they’d been sleeping, almost slipping into the river. 

“Ma’am,” the other guard saluted, blushing so hard that Adora could see it through the helmet. “Um, that is—I’ll go announce your arrival.” They took off down the bridge, almost tripping on their cape. 

The other guard saluted as Adora passed him, walking much more slowly across the stones, her cane making a satisfying  _ clink  _ with every other step. 

She was three-quarters of the way across when Glimmer teleported right in front of her, crashing down on top of her. They fell to the ground, cane clattering away, and Glimmer held tight to Adora’s shirt. 

“Adora,” she cried, “you’re here! You’re okay!” 

Adora smiled, wrapping an arm around Glimmer.  _ I really did miss her.  _ “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

“I’m so glad, we really missed you—wait, I forgot Bow!” 

The weight disappeared from on top of her, and Adora knelt, reaching for her staff and pulling herself to her feet. As she rose to her feet again, ribs aching from the fall, Glimmer—this time accompanied by a beaming Bow—appeared in front of her. 

They hugged—”the Best Friends Squad, together again,” Bow choked out through his tears—and it was only when Queen Angella flew down to greet her that anyone suggested that Adora take a moment to clean herself up. 

As the shower water dripped down her body, she traced over the smooth, white scars across her chest. She-Ra had healed her, yes, but they’d already begun scarring by the time She-Ra had gotten to it. It was the first time she’d really looked at them. They gave her a…  _ dangerous  _ look. She liked it. 

They washed and repaired her jacket, thankfully, and gave her new grey pants, a white long-sleeved shirt. And she slept. 

_ —a dark, crouched figure, backlit in purple against twisted trees— _

_ —red, flickering lightning— _

_ —bright blue lights embedded in branches, a larger figure sweeping below them— _

_ —Catra kneeling before Shadow Weaver, tears running down her cheeks— _

She jolted awake to a knock at her door. It was Angella. Adora let her in, surreptitiously wiping her face dry, and the Queen sat primly on her couch, patting the cushion next to her. Adora hobbled over and sat awkwardly.

The Queen looked at her, eyebrows furrowed. “How are you doing? I know—I’ve been where you are. This can’t be easy.” 

“It’s better,” Adora mumbled, pushing the anxious thoughts down. “It was—for a minute, but. I’m better.” 

“Good,” Angella said softly, examining her. “I’m… so sorry. If you want to talk about it, I’m here.”

Adora nodded, focusing on her hands in her lap. 

“I’m not here just to make sure you’re alright. I hate to ask this so soon after your return, but I need to know: do you wish to fight for the Rebellion from this point forward?” 

Adora steeled herself, shoulders back. “I need to. I can’t—I have to do something.” 

“How would you like to aid us?” 

“I’ve given this a lot of thought, and… with my training, and my knowledge of the Horde, I’d like to be a strategist, or an advisor—whatever the Rebellion equivalent is, I guess.”

Angella smiled at her proudly. “That sounds perfect. I’ve had many glowing recommendations from my daughter and Juliet about your strategic ability.”

_ Good,  _ Adora thought, the familiar burden of responsibility falling on her shoulders. 

Angella knelt before Adora, resting a hand on her knee. “I can see that you want to work hard, and I appreciate that, I really do. But… I’ve been where you are, Adora, and while throwing yourself into obligations is a great distraction from grief, it’s not a life. You should find something else to live for; you should allow yourself to live fully.”

Adora heard her words, but couldn’t absorb their meaning. Not yet. 

“I care about you deeply, and I can’t stand to watch you go through what I did.” 

Angella stood, after a moment, and leant down, lightly kissing the top of Adora’s head. “General Juliet and I have a meeting this afternoon, and I’d like you to join us.” 

So she assisted at the meetings, analyzed the Horde troop movements, thought ten, twenty moves in advance, asked to be given more administrative assignments. She ended up with paperwork, mostly, deciding how much food to send to each of the regiments, how many new swords they needed to requisition from the blacksmiths, how many Bright Moon soldiers each kingdom needed in addition to their own armies. 

She made a to-do list on her wall every morning, and washed it off at night when she’d done everything. It was satisfying, to feel needed again. She felt like she was making a difference in the war, maybe even a larger difference than she had as She-Ra, on the front lines. Here, in the council room, her insights could save the lives of thousands of soldiers, rather than just the few she might be able to defend on the battlefield. 

* * *

Months passed. 

“...blockade around the sea gate…”

Netossa leaned over to whisper in Spinnerella’s ear, and they laughed quietly to themselves. Adora drummed her fingers on the table, staring at a bird perched outside the window.

“...requisitioned more supplies, at least three casks…” 

Spinnerella fell asleep on Netossa’s shoulder after their sixth report of the meeting. Mermista had reached over to poke her, but Netossa’s glare had been enough to scare her off. 

“...four barrels of wheat seeds…”

Netossa softened, looking at Spinnerella, and Adora was reminded of what might have been. 

“Adora, will you—” 

Adora nodded, not really knowing what she was agreeing to. 

“Perfect! You leave in a week,” Angella said, jotting it down. 

_ Guess I’ll find out what that was about in… a week. _

“Well, let’s move on to our next report,” Juliet sighed, doodling in the margins of her notebook. 

The man walked out of the door, and was replaced by another.

“...dozens of them throughout Etheria, Your Majesty. People who have lost their homes or families, deserters from the Rebellion army, deserters from the Horde army. People who have nothing but the shirt on their back but want to do something good.” The scout finished his report and stood straight, waiting for the Queen to dismiss him. 

Angella tapped her fingers on her chin, looking off into the distance. “Is there a way for us to commission them to work in tandem with the Rebellion’s reconstruction efforts? We’d have to do a thorough background check, to make sure they weren’t dangerous, but we desperately need reinforcements.” 

Adora frowned. Something didn’t sit right with her about how the Queen had phrased that—oh, yeah. 

“Angella, if I may?” She interjected. 

The Queen nodded, steepling her fingers. 

“Queen Angella, the Rebellion has thus far accepted—without question—two ex-Horde soldiers: me and Scorpia. Both Scorpia and I were Force Captains, and we both did things we regret for the Horde. I was complicit in the attack on Thaymor, and was responsible for the deaths of many. And Scorpia was Cat—” she swallowed, “the Force General’s right-hand-woman, and was therefore responsible in every attack the General carried out. And yet, both of us were accepted here without any repercussions.”

Glimmer leaned forward, elbows resting on the table. “But you were both—”

“It—just because we were princesses shouldn’t make a difference in how you see them. There’s something dangerous about offering asylum for these refugees, on the condition that they have a clean past—especially when neither Scorpia nor I had clean pasts, and were both let in without question or repercussion.”

While Glimmer was still almost-glaring at her, Juliet—the only non-princess in the room—looked at her appraisingly, and let out a hum of approval, and Angella was carefully taking notes, so Adora steeled herself and continued. 

“I’ve met some of these people, and all they want is to make sense of something in the world, and they do that by helping people. I agree that one or two of them may not be as pure of heart as the others, but don’t they deserve just as much of a chance as you gave me, regardless of how bloody their hands are?” 

Angella looked up from her paper, and nodded. “You make a good point, Adora. It isn’t fair that we treat princesses differently—soldiers who have willingly left the Horde will be pardoned of all crimes, just as you and Scorpia were. We will give them a blank slate.” 

“Thank you,” Adora breathed, relaxing. 

* * *

The next week, Adora was sent to Salineas. Sea Hawk took her in his boat, stuffed to the sail with supplies. The Horde had blocked off the front gate, and the entire north side, and had been firing on it for days. The Sea Gate was beginning to disintegrate from the center, and the castle and surrounding buildings looked significantly worse for the wear. 

They had left the south, entrance-less side vacant. But with Salineas, which was built on the water, and Mermista, who could get anything  _ through  _ water—well, the south side wasn’t that entrance-less after all. 

So they made a wide loop around the blockade. Adora had to convince Sea Hawk at  _ least  _ three times not to catch his boat on fire and just ram his way through the Horde ships. They met Mermista on the other side, and she made them a tunnel to float through (which was honestly pretty awesome, with all the fish floating by their faces and everything, but also terrifying, because there was a  _ ton _ of water). 

As Adora helped the team lift the crates off the boat, Mermista came up to her. 

“Uh, hey. So there are a bunch of volunteers here helping out. I saw someone here like that Force General, y’know, tails and ears and whatever. But they didn’t look like her, or act like her, so… thought I’d let you know.” 

_ Hm. Interesting.  _ It wasn’t her, but she’d never met anybody like Catra. It’d be nice to meet this person, learn about them. But when she went to ask the volunteers, they said they’d already left, moved on to the next town. 

_ Too bad.  _

They stopped at an inn a couple of miles out from Plumeria on their way back to Bright Moon, tying their horses to the post outside. It was quiet, almost empty, and full of a nervous energy. The server who rushed up to get their lunch order was frazzled and looked at them like they were crazy.

“Greetings, my dear friend!” Sea Hawk exclaimed, examining the abandoned inn. “What happened to this fine establishment? Why is everybody gone?” 

The server’s eyes went wide, and he fumbled his notepad, almost dropping it. “You mean you don’t know?” 

Adora narrowed her eyes at him. “Know what?” 

“Plumeria’s being evacuated,” he blurted out. “There’s a Horde army on its way—it should be there within the hour.”

Adora froze, heart pounding. She hadn’t fought since—but she had to, now. She was trained to protect, so protect she would. 

Sea Hawk shot up, putting a foot on his chair and posing dramatically. “Well, ‘tis well that I, who has slain over four hundred Horde soldiers in battle, should—”

Adora clapped her hand over his mouth, glaring at him, and smiled apologetically at the server. “We’ll just—” she pointed at the door to the inn, and Sea Hawk slouched out, defeated. She tailed him closely. 

They mounted their horses and charged towards Plumeria, Sea Hawk yelling out various versions of “Charge!” and “They won’t know what hit them” as they approached.

“Sea Hawk,” she groaned eventually, “you will do exactly as I tell you, or I’ll tell Mermista about that boy you were chatting up on the road yesterday.” 

Sea Hawk’s smile dropped, back straightening, and he nodded frantically, hair flopping into his eyes. “Yessir. Er, ma’am. Exactly as you say.” 

Smoke rose towards the sky above the housetops.  _ Apparently they were a little closer than an hour out,  _ Adora worried, but as they drew closer, she saw that the town was—at least—mostly evacuated. A dozen-or-so Horde bots were firing on empty houses, and a few people cowered in the alleyways, but nobody seemed to be in immediate danger. 

She slowed her horse, sliding off of it carefully, landing lightly on her good leg, deploying her staff/cane hybrid. It was dangerous for the horse this close to battle, so she slapped its hindquarters, sending it back out of the village. Sea Hawk dismounted quietly next to her, sending his horse after hers. 

The bots fired on the people cowering in the alleyway, but Adora was too far out—even as she ran as fast as she could and strained to place herself between them and the bots, she was too far—

But somebody else was standing between them and the bots, drawing a huge purple shield out of thin air. The shots rebounded off the shield onto the ground, creating little dust clouds each time they hit. 

(The glowing, purple magic was awfully familiar, but Adora suppressed her panic for the sake of the fight.)

The man’s hair flowed behind him as he sprinted closer to the bots, conjuring a complicated, circular pattern, pushing it at the nearest bot, which melted into the ground. 

Adora stood, stunned. She’d seen magic before—heck, she’d  _ done  _ magic before—but this was something else, something on par with Shadow Weaver. 

She swallowed against her nausea, her tightening throat. 

Even as the man conjured another rune, Adora saw the bot behind him power up, aiming at his back. 

“Hey!” She yelled, taking as much of a running start as her leg would allow and using her staff to vault herself onto the bot’s back. She rolled onto her knees and stabbed deep into the bot’s camera, hoping to damage something important. 

Electricity fizzled where her staff was buried, and the bot fell slowly to the ground. She used its momentum to flip herself back off, propelling herself with one leg, and stumbling awkwardly as she landed. 

But she stuck the landing, both feet below her, leaning heavily on the staff. Catra would have been proud. 

The man nodded at her, eyebrows raised. “Impressive,” he called over, hands working automatically to create another rune and send it towards another of the bots. “Mind taking my back?” 

Sea Hawk was doing something that involved what appeared to be dancing with another of the bots. He looked safe enough—he could dodge and weave all day long, it looked like—so she nodded, ignoring the flaring pain in her leg to take up a defensive position behind the man. 

He took out the remaining bots easily enough, with Adora covering his blind spot, and as the last bot fell into the dust, he turned, extending his hand. 

“Nice to meet you,” he grinned. 

“You, too,” Adora said, shaking the proffered hand. “Thanks for helping us protect these people.”

“Of course.” 

“What are you doing around these parts?” 

“I got dropped off here, and I’m on my way to Bright Moon.” 

“That’s where we’re headed, too,” Adora told him. “You can come with us.”

His eyes sparkled, and he grinned. “Thank you.” 

“I’ll get you a horse.”

Adora flashed her credentials and requisitioned another horse at Plumeria’s stables, promising to return it within the week. Sea Hawk wisely bowed out of the trip back to the castle, pleading that he had to go apologize to Mermista for flirting with that boy. 

They rode side-by-side on the now-familiar path. The man pushed his horse faster, glancing back at Adora.

“Sorry,” he said, smiling widely, before the smile slipped away. “It’s just—I lost my soulmate years ago.” He rubbed his wrist absentmindedly, a deep sadness reflected in his dark eyes. “I’d been taken prisoner by the Horde, and just a week after, she died.” 

“That’s awful,” Adora whispered, and the man shook himself.

“But my little girl—I’m so close to seeing her now—she’s got to be all grown up by now, it’s been years—I’m worried she won’t need me any more. She’s grown up her whole life without parents, and now here I am—I don’t know how to be a dad to a teenager, to an adult—”

Adora laughed as the man continued on and on, but she urged her horse to go faster, matching his pace. “We’re about two hours out,” she told him, grinning. “You’ll see her soon enough.” 

“Do you still live with your parents?” the man asked, glancing over at her. “You seem a little young to be…”

“I never knew my parents,” Adora told him, focusing on the reins in her hands. “I had, well, a woman--sort of my mom, but the longer I spend away from her…”

She took a deep breath. “Anyways, what I meant to tell you was that I lost my soulmate too, a few months ago. And I think—it doesn’t matter how much time passes, I’ll always need her. And I think your daughter will always need you, too.”

He urged his horse closer to hers and reached over awkwardly, patting her on the shoulder. Somehow it was comforting, and Adora released a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. 

The soldiers guarding the bridge across the river started as they raced near, and they went to cross their lances across the bridge before recognizing Adora--and then their eyes grew wide as they saw her companion. They pulled back their spears, mouths agape, and they hurtled past. 

Adora looked over at the man searchingly. They’d recognized him? Who was he? 

He dismounted his horse in a hurry at the foot of the castle and looked around frantically. He glanced at the two guards at the castle door, and then at Adora. 

“Where’s the Queen?” He asked imploringly, and realization dawned slowly on Adora.

The guards shook their heads, nonplussed. 

Adora looked up at the sun. It was, what, four o’clock? On a Tuesday? 

“She’s in her weekly meeting with the captains,” she said, some of his urgency spreading to her. “In the council room.” 

They raced up the stairs, Adora propelling herself with the railing but slowly falling behind. 

He shoved the door to the meeting room open and stood in the doorway, breathing heavily. 

The Queen shot to her feet, eyes wide, her chair sliding away behind her. 

Glimmer’s eyes darted from her mother to the doorway, confused— 

Angella’s gloved hand covered her mouth, a single tear running down her cheek. She took a step towards the man—a second step—and she ran towards him, a sob escaping her, embracing him tightly, wings coming up to surround them both. 

_ King Micah.  _

Glimmer let out a choked laugh, disappearing from her chair, and reappearing within the haven of her mother’s wings and her father’s arms. 

Adora watched from the doorway, where she’d followed Micah. A tear slid down to her chin, and warmth spread out from her heart. A family reunited. 

“I can’t believe—” Angella wept. “You’re here—it’s really you—” 

“It’s me,” Micah soothed, arms tightening. “It’s really me. I’m so sorry, I—” 

“You’re  _ here,”  _ Glimmer’s voice emanated from the cocoon. “You’re here! That’s all that matters.” 

Angella called for a celebratory feast that night, and  _ everyone _ attended. The castle was filled to the brim. Angella sat at the head of the table, but had scooted her chair right next to Micah’s. Glimmer was on his other side, eyes sparkling. Adora sat next to Bow, across from Glimmer. It was the closest thing to  _ family  _ she’d ever felt. 

Angella’s arms were on display for the first time, and a bold  _ 8  _ glinted for everyone to see. Adora fidgeted with her wristband, letting herself hope for a second—but no. Her hopes had already been crushed too many times. 

Angella finally asked MIcah what had happened, and a haunted look fell onto his face, before being washed away as he looked at his wife. 

“Well, I was captured by the Horde, and they brought me to Beast Island. It’s a terrible place, full of powerful, violent creatures, but I had my magic, and I learned how to survive.

“I tried every day to get off the island, for the first year; I tried to leave by magic, by teleporting; I tried going by boat, harnessing a bird to go by air—I tried everything. You have to believe me—I tried every day to come back home to you.” 

Angella’s hand rested on his arm, and Glimmer put her head on his shoulder. “We know, Dad.” 

He smiled down at her, and up at his wife. “But, of course, nothing worked. Part of the magic of Beast Island, I guess, and the reason the Horde exiles people there, is that it’s pretty much impossible to escape.

“I met a few people, across the years, who’d been exiled there too. None of them made it very long. It’s such a harsh environment, and requires so much willpower to stay alive—you know that I got used to eating  _ beetles—”  _ He held up a forkful of the cake in front of him, and let it fall to the plate. “I can’t even really eat this, any more. Too used to beetles.” 

Glimmer gagged next to him, and he laughed. 

“But I always knew that you were both waiting for me, and so I had to survive, wait for the right opportunity to get off the island. 

“Then, maybe four months ago, I almost died. It wasn’t the first time, but it was by far the worst. I’d overslept, and let myself get surrounded during the night. I’d never seen so many snake monsters in one place. They completely overpowered me, even with my magic, and I knew that I wasn’t going to make it. 

“But then someone showed up, chased them all away. They came up to me, and they must have known some killer first-aid or healing magic, because I felt good as new within a couple of days.

“Anyways, we stuck together after that. They were different from the others: run-down, at first, but they had some fight, enough to survive the place. 

“And finally, a couple of months ago, we found just the person we needed: Entrapta.” 

Adora gaped. Nobody had seen Entrapta since Adora almost died; Shadow Weaver hadn’t teleported her back with Glimmer and the rest; they assumed she died in the Fright Zone. But if she was on Beast Island—

“She was there tracking the largest First One’s Tech signal she’d ever seen. Large enough to power a portal, she said. But she built a robot—a ship—and it got us off the island with the tech she needed.” 

“Where is Entrapta now? And the other?” Angella asked.

“They didn’t say,” Micah shrugged. “And I didn’t think it was my place to press them.” 

“I only wish we could thank them properly.” 

Micah started telling how he and Adora had fought together, smiling proudly at her from across the table, and Adora’s heart glowed. 

_ Family.  _

But the feeling of family, of belonging, couldn’t ever be complete. 

_ If Angella’s number came back—no, I can’t go down that road.  _

* * *

Adora’s next assignment was a village just outside of the Fright Zone, one still in need of a  _ lot  _ of reconstruction. She and Bow would drop off the supplies, do a quick inspection of how much help they’d still need, and be on their way. 

Adora ran her hand down the house’s siding, smiling proudly. They’d done a really great job, much better than she’d done back in Plumeria all those months ago. 

“Wow, this is amazing,” she praised, admiring the house’s sturdiness. “Was it just you three who worked on this one?” 

“Yeah—well, there’s one more of us, but she went to get supplies for the next house.” 

Adora hummed, hand still on the house’s side. Something struck her—she was missing something—

There were holes in the polished wood, holes that looked almost like—claw marks? 

Her heart stopped, and numbness spread throughout her body. “Wait, where did you say she went?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the late update, but hope you enjoyed :) 
> 
> as always, thanks to womenlovingwonderwoman for editing. the light of my life. 
> 
> I'll post the next chapter tomorrow, as promised
> 
> lmk what you thought, and thanks for reading!


	16. hallucinations

Catra strolled down the dark tunnel, heading to pick up another crate. They needed more nails over on the south end, and she’d just gotten off roof duty, so it was on her to make the supply run.

Her eyes adjusted to the slightly-brighter room, lit with a single lightbulb hanging from the center of the room. She picked through the wooden boxes in the small, square storage room, searching for the label she needed.  _ Ah, there it is—  _

_ Clink.  _

It was the sound of something—wood?—against stone. Catra froze, the hairs on the back of her neck prickling. Someone was coming, getting closer. 

_ Clink.  _

But while her natural response would have been to raise her hackles at this unannounced newcomer, she wasn’t scared or wary, she was… comfortable? Peaceful?

_ There’s no way. _

_ Clink.  _

The familiar scent grew closer and closer, but Catra turned away from the tunnel entrance, not willing to have her heart broken when it wasn’t  _ her.  _

The clinking stopped at the doorway of the storage room, and  _ her _ scent was almost overpowering. But even as she got drunk on the scent, she closed her eyes, hunched her shoulders, wrapped her tail around herself. 

_ I can’t live this nightmare again. I don’t think I’ll survive it.  _

“Catra? Is that you?” The voice cracked, and was rougher than Catra remembered, but was  _ undeniably _ Adora’s. 

She shook her head, lowering her ears against the soft voice.  _ It’s another one of Shadow Weaver’s tricks, a hallucination.  _

Another clink, and the hallucination took a step forward—would Shadow Weaver go so far as to counterfeit the sound of a boot falling lightly on stone, of clothing shifting, of a ponytail swishing? 

“Catra,” the voice implored, quivering, and Catra couldn’t take it anymore. 

She turned, and saw a pair of red-and-white boots, grey pants. Her eyes couldn’t go any higher. 

Catra heard a sharp intake of breath, a stuttered sob, and Adora was on her knees in front of her, looking up, sky-blue eyes overflowing with tears. 

_ “Catra,”  _ she choked out, reaching up, hand trembling, stopping before making contact.  _ “Please  _ tell me it’s really you.” 

Would Shadow Weaver program Adora to sound like she actually  _ cared  _ for Catra? 

Catra stretched out her shaking hand, pausing, before letting her fingertips brush against Adora’s. 

They touched. 

_ It’s not a hallucination. _

Catra’s legs gave out and she dropped to her knees, grasping Adora’s hand, intertwining their fingers. 

“It’s me,” she gasped, pulling their hands closer, pressing Adora’s hand to her forehead, to her chest. “It’s  _ you.”  _

Adora tugged her closer, maneuvering her until she was sitting on Adora’s legs. And Adora pulled her in tight, holding her like she’d never let her go again. 

“Catra, I’m so—you’re  _ alive— _ ”

Catra blinked, frozen, eyes wide and swimming with tears, but every fiber of her being was telling her to clutch at Adora, to not let her leave ever again, and so she broke through her panic, burying her face into Adora’s shoulder, digging her claws in through that  _ stupid, wonderful  _ sweet-smelling jacket. 

“I thought you were dead,” Catra finally whispered against Adora’s tear-soaked high collar. “I thought that I’d killed you. I’m—I’m  _ so _ sorry.” 

Adora’s embrace tightened even further. “No,  _ I’m _ sorry—I should never have left you—I shouldn’t have done all those things—but you’re  _ here,  _ you’re  _ alive— _ I thought Shadow Weaver killed you—” 

“I’m okay, I’m here. Not for lack of trying, but—I’m okay.”

And for the first time in over a year, it was true. 

They sat wrapped up in one another for hours, whispering apologies and reassurances, until they heard a knock at the doorway.

“Excuse me,” the girl said, ducking her head in apology, but surveying the pair curiously. “I came to get the nails.” 

Catra blushed and hid her face in Adora’s chest, tail twitching against Adora’s waist.

The girl lugged the crate out of the room, leaving them on the ground.

“We have to leave eventually,” Adora smiled against the soft fur on Catra’s neck, and Catra clambered awkwardly off of her, legs asleep, offering a hand to help her up. 

Adora rose gracelessly to her feet, heavily favoring her left leg. Catra scrutinized her, concerned, and as Adora—refusing to let go of Catra’s hand—bent to pick up what Catra had previously thought was a bo staff, it dawned on her. 

_ “Adora,”  _ she breathed, guilt rising high in her chest again, pushing into her throat. “What—how did this—”

But as Adora stammered, blushing and avoiding the question, Catra knew. 

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I know I’ll never be able to say it enough. But—I’m  _ so  _ sorry.” 

Adora looked at her then, squeezing her fingers. “Hey, I already told you. It’s not your fault. It was Shadow Weaver messing with us again, and she just went too far. It wasn’t your fault.”

Catra swallowed the guilt, but it rested heavily in her stomach. 

She led them to her tent, set up on the outskirts of the village, next to a noisy river. Even as she crawled through the small opening, she couldn’t let go of Adora’s hand, pulling her awkwardly behind. 

They sat across from each other on Catra’s sleeping bag, knees brushing, hands still clasped together. 

“Catra, I—there’s so much I have to tell you.” 

“Me, too,” Catra sighed, tail twitching nervously. 

“I’m so sorry I left you,” Adora rushed out, eyes welling with tears again. “So sorry. I don’t know—I didn’t know—” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t come with you,” Catra interrupted her. “I should have—I shouldn’t have gotten so angry—I should have listened to you—” 

“I shouldn’t have kept fighting you—”

“I should have fought harder against Shadow Weaver, shouldn’t have let her control me—” 

Adora let out a short, choked laugh. “We have a  _ lot  _ to figure out, huh.” 

They did. But Catra wanted nothing more than to work through it with Adora at her side. 

_ Maybe this is our chance. Maybe we can have the life we always wanted. Maybe we really can be together at the end of the world.  _

Adora pushed through the heaviness in the air. “I like your hair,” she grinned, going to muss it. “It looks good short.” 

Catra hissed half-heartedly, but couldn’t deny herself the pleasure of Adora’s fingers scratching her scalp. “It kept getting in my way.” 

“I can imagine,” Adora hummed, letting her hand fall to Catra’s cheek, and then back to the ground. 

They stayed together past the sunset, until the rest of the village had already gone to bed. They laid down, tangled up in one another, on top of Catra’s sleeping bag, drinking in each other’s presence. 

As she drifted off, well past midnight, Catra felt a vibration start deep within her, coming out as a purr. Adora’s arms tightened around her, and she felt Adora smile into her hair. 

_ Will she still be here when I wake up? What if this really has all just been a dream? _

“Adora,” she whispered against Adora’s neck. “Don’t leave me.”

“Never,” Adora promised fervently. “Never again.” Her unyielding arms around Catra’s back, her slow breathing under Catra’s head, her loud heartbeats in Catra’s ear, her unmistakable scent on that damn jacket—it was almost enough to convince Catra that she really meant it. 

And then Catra was asleep. 

_ —her claws glinted in front of her, reflecting the red-purple light— _

_ —blood, so much blood— _

_ —Adora’s empty eyes, motionless body— _

Catra gasped, eyes flying open. Her arms were restrained—she couldn’t move—

“Catra?” Adora whispered.

The weight disappeared from on top of her, and she shot up, scooting to the edge of the tent, pulling her knees up to her chest. But as she came back to herself, the separation was too much, and she reached out, tugging Adora until their shoulders brushed. 

“I—” Catra stuttered, “you were gone, and—” 

“I know,” Adora whispered. “I get them, too.”

Catra curled against her, nuzzling into her chest, pressing. “You’re  _ here. _ I shouldn’t get them anymore, but…” 

“It’ll probably take a while for them to go away,” Adora reasoned, stroking Catra’s hair. 

Catra hummed, eyes already drifting shut with the calming rhythm of Adora’s fingers in her hair and the soothing, familiar scent. 

After Catra fell back asleep, Adora laid them both down, Catra still curled up against her chest. 

They both awoke the next morning more well-rested than they’d been in over a year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short chapter! it was so short and sweet that I couldn't bear to dilute it with anything else. 
> 
> shoutout to the best editor in the world, womenlovingwonderwoman. 10/10. love her. 
> 
> some things might not make sense yet, and that's normal! neither Adora nor Catra really knows what happened while they were apart from each other yet, so there are a lot of gaps for the moment.
> 
> also I have so many things running through my brain that I'm trying to keep track of that I might lose track of a couple lol but please forgive me if some things remain unexplained lol
> 
> I'm leaving for school in a week and won't have as much time to write any more, but my goal is still to finish this fic before school starts up again. Only three more chapters to go, so I should be able to do it. fingers crossed. but I'm not sure when the next chapter will be up. I have to earn money for tuition and pack and all that lol so... this will move to the back burner. 
> 
> thanks for sticking with me!


	17. recovery

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: anxiety, ptsd, suicidal thoughts. to avoid (mostly), skip from “I know. I want to.” to "the hard part was over."

It was so warm. Smelled so good. Catra didn’t want to move, ever again. Didn’t want to wake up, rejoin the real world. 

Fingers stroked through her hair, rubbing behind her ears, and she nuzzled into the hand, couldn’t help the purr rumbling through her body. She’d do anything to keep those fingers in her hair, that scent in her nose, that warmth...

Catra started to come back to herself, and realized what she was doing. Who was this, who  _ dared— _

Her eyes shot wide open, and she was greeted by Adora’s blue, blue eyes, squinted with her blinding smile. Catra had to shut her eyes again, against the brightness of it, against the overwhelming joy of Adora being there, alive, in her arms. 

“Too early,” she grumbled. But she couldn’t hide her smile, couldn't help but to dig her claws into the back of Adora’s jacket, keeping her there. 

Adora’s chest shook with her laughter, and Catra blushed, hiding her face in the dumb off-white lapels of that damned jacket. 

“Catra,” she said, and Catra heard her amusement loud and clear, “it’s past noon. Four people have come to wake you up since six this morning.”

If possible, Catra’s face grew even hotter. 

“The first time, you didn’t even stir. The second, you said something about... being too comfortable? Never wanting to move again?” 

“What can I say, Adora?” She finally managed. “You make a great pillow.”

“Hopefully I’m good for more than that,” Adora laughed

But Catra knew Adora, she knew the self-doubt underlying the phrase, but before she could speak—

“I did ask somebody for food, earlier, so I’ve got that going for me.”

The moment was gone, and Catra remembered that the last time she’d eaten was more than twenty-four hours ago. But to eat, she’d have to leave their cocoon, and...

“I also have to go to the bathroom,” Adora whispered conspiratorially, and Catra laughed against the anxiety that had suddenly risen in her heart. She forced herself to let her claws slide out of Adora’s jacket.

Adora squeezed her closer, before slipping out of her arms. She put on her brace—she must’ve taken it off at some point the night before. It’d take a while for Catra to stop feeling the immense guilt every time she saw Adora’s leg, was reminded of what she’d done—

“Be quick,” she said, trying and failing to keep the pleading note out of her voice, and Adora turned from the tent’s opening to smile back at her. 

“I will,” she promised, and she was gone. 

Catra counted the seconds. She’d give her three minutes. She could stand this for three minutes. 

At sixty, her hands clenched, claws digging into her palms. 

At one twenty, she felt a clammy sweat start, and she squeezed her eyes shut against the glaringly empty tent. 

_ She was here,  _ she reminded herself, curling into the heat they’d left on her sleeping pad.  _ It was really her. She’s real and she’s alive. _

At one fifty-five, she heard the tent flap move to the side and her eyes shot open. Adora slid back in. 

Catra’s claws slid from her palms, and she wiped the blood off onto her pants, moving to take Adora’s hand. 

“Let’s eat,” she said, willing her voice to stop shaking. 

They sat across from each other on the sleeping pad—the tent was tiny; there wasn’t room for any real furniture, but neither of them was ready to leave their little haven. They balanced the tray on their knees between them. Catra took Adora’s left hand with her right under it. Eating awkwardly was worth it if it meant she could have this one more point of contact. 

The transparent blue tent plastic above them cast everything in an ethereal light, made even more intense by the strength of the noonday sun. Adora’s eyes were an intense, piercing blue, and she was backlit, glowing faintly—it was hard to focus on the food. 

Adora didn’t make it to the end of the food, either, before she set the tray aside to stare at Catra. 

“What happened to you?” She whispered worriedly. “How did you survive Shadow Weaver? What—how are you alive?”

The name filled Catra with ice, but she shook her head, dislodging the memories. “I can’t—it’s hard for me to talk about,” she said, pulling her knees to her chest. 

Adora nodded, but Catra could sense her disappointment, her curiosity. 

“Adora, wait,” she whined, voice high with desperation. She reached for Adora’s hand again, craving the reminder that Adora was  _ there,  _ she was  _ alive. _ “I don’t mean that I won’t tell you. I just mean—it might take me a minute.” 

Adora relaxed at her touch, intertwining their fingers, smiling at her. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” she reminded Catra. 

“I know. I want to.” She took a deep breath. 

“Right after Sparkles took you away with that... bitch, I kind of... spiraled. I didn’t—with you gone, for good, the world didn’t seem right. I didn’t feel—nothing felt right.” 

Catra could tell from the deep sadness in Adora’s eyes that Adora understood, empathized, maybe more than she’d admit. 

“I wasn’t planning on sticking around If you weren’t there,” Catra admitted, tail wrapping around her knees, drawing them in closer. 

Adora’s eyes went wide and filled with tears. “Wait, like—” 

Catra finally broke eye contact, her tail lashing. 

“Catra—I’m so—can I—”

Catra nodded, tugging her closer, and Adora fell forward to hold her tight, front pressed awkwardly against Catra’s knees. “Catra, I—don’t ever—I’m  _ so _ sorry that you felt—” she sobbed, fighting to steady her voice enough to get the words out. “Even if I’m not here—I missed you  _ so much  _ even when we were just on opposite sides, and then when I thought you’d—you’re so strong and brave and amazing and beautiful and you can’t—you’re so  _ caring  _ and _ — _ you have so much to give, you hear?”

Catra relaxed at the fierce warmth of Adora’s words, at the comforting desperation of her embrace— _ she cares, she does need me— _ but a seed of  _ something _ lingered in the back of her mind. 

“Things will get better,” Adora vowed. “I’m here now, I’m not going anywhere, if I can help it. I promise.” 

Adora loosened her arms, but Catra looked at her pleadingly. Adora smiled softly, sadly down at her and moved to sit next to her, carefully pulling Catra in until Catra’s head rested on her shoulder. 

“I wasn’t strong enough,” Catra whispered, words muffled against Adora’s jacket. “I wasn’t gonna be able to do it on my own.”

Adora pressed a kiss into Catra’s hair, holding her almost too tightly. 

_ I didn’t just hurt myself. I hurt her, too.  _

“I sent myself to Beast Island. Basically a death sentence, right? Turns out it wasn’t. I couldn’t even die right.”

“Thank goodness,” Adora whispered thickly. 

_ She cares.  _

The hard part was over. Catra could almost breathe again, and she let herself relax into Adora’s side, let the steady sound of Adora’s heartbeat ground her. 

“The waves are enormous the closer you get, and my skiff crashed into the rocks. I was thrown out, soaked—it  _ sucked _ —but it was shallow, and I waded to land.”

Adora’s hand stroked absentmindedly between Catra’s shoulder blades. Soothing, but distracting. 

“First thing I saw was a stampede of these huge robot animals converging on this place. Looked like the place to be; looked like it was going to be dangerous enough. So I headed over, through the trees.

“Turns out they were all heading for some guy. He was fierce, but outmatched. Something inside of me... clicked. I guess I wanted to do something good in the world, one good thing before I… left.”

Adora looked at her so sadly, proudly, stars in her eyes, and Catra felt herself blush. “Stop it.”

Adora hummed in apology, but Catra was still overwhelmed by the depth of emotion in those blue eyes. 

She pushed through it, turning her head back towards the tent flap. “So I fought the things off, got the guy. He was pretty beat up. There was a lot of blood—brought up some bad memories. But I dragged him into a hole in this huge tree. I started to patch him up with what I could find around the forest, but while I was bandaging his arm, my hands got all glowy, like a yellow magic. Scared the hell out of me.” 

Adora stiffened beside her, and looked down at her. “Wait, you healed him?” 

“I guess so,” Catra shrugged. “It happened pretty fast—one second he was bleeding out, and the next he looked mostly fine; and one second I was okay, physically, and the next I felt exhausted to my bones. But I guess... yeah.” 

Adora’s eyes were full of an emotion that Catra didn’t want to put a name to, quite yet. “Catra... one of the things I learned about soulmates is—She-Ra’s soulmate, or mine, I guess, can do some of the same things she can. If you really—it sounds exactly like how I feel when I’ve healed.”

Adora’s fingers traced over the wristband covering Catra’s mark. “Can I—“

Catra swallowed but nodded, her hair rubbing the wrong direction against Adora’s shoulder. 

Adora slipped her fingers under the stretchy fabric and tugged slowly, pulling it off over Catra’s hand. She set the wristband on the ground between their knees before dancing her fingers up Catra’s downward-facing arm and back down again, finally locking loosely around her wrist. Catra let her arm be slowly turned over. 

The black  _ 8 _ was back. 

Catra’s heartbeat thrummed in her ears. She’d known before, when the number had disappeared, but now Adora was beside her, arm wrapped around her shoulders, still holding Catra’s wrist, and Adora was her—what had she called it before? Her  _ soulmate. _

Catra rubbed at the  _ 8 _ , marveling. 

Adora’s wrist was still covered, and Catra suddenly couldn’t wait another second to see it. She unsheathed her claws with the sound of metal on metal, placed them on either end of the fabric on Adora’s wrist, and looked up at her questioningly. 

Adora quirked a smile at her, nodded, and Catra’s claws snipped easily through the wristband. 

Adora’s familiar black  _ 9 _ stared unassumingly up at her, and Adora’s breath caught. 

“It’s back,” she murmured. “It’s really you.” 

Catra nuzzled deeper into Adora’s shoulder, drinking Adora in. Adora was hers. She was Adora’s. 

Adora needed her, as she needed Adora. And the universe had finally given her proof. 

“What happened next?” Adora whispered. 

“I took care of the guy until he woke up,” Catra said. “Said his name was Micah.”

Adora had put that much together, at least. 

“From the moment he woke up, he was... different. Light and cheery and happy. So different from the Horde. He was so interesting that I let myself get distracted from the reason I’d come to the island.

“I cut my hair—“

Adora ran her fingers through her hair again. “And I love it.”

“Without my mask, it kept getting in my face. It was shit.”

Adora’s chest shook with her subdued laugh. 

“We wandered around together until Entrapta showed up. She was tracking a huge First One’s Tech signal, or something. And once she got what she needed, she built us a way to get off the island again. A ship, of some sort. 

“Anyways, we ended up back on the mainland. I went from place to place helping out, like you saw. Doing what good I could to make up for the past. 

“I kept an ear out for sightings of She-Ra, but of course I heard nothing. I was convinced you were dead.”

“I was,” Adora whispered. “I died. They had to restart my heart.”

“That explains it.”

“And I killed She-Ra, I got rid of the sword. It was my last gift to you, I guess.”

Warmth spread out from Catra’s chest. “For me?” She whispered. 

“Of course. I should’ve done it a long time ago. I should never have—you should have always been my first choice.” 

It was what Catra had been waiting for since this had all started. Adora was choosing her over everything else, over She-Ra, over the Rebellion. 

But...

“Adora, I know I made you choose before, but... I know you. I know how much you need to fight for what you believe in. And... I want to fight  _ with _ you now.” 

If Adora looked at her with any more warmth, Catra wasn’t going to be able to help herself. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing another soulmate fic (because I have no self-control) so keep an eye out for it ;) it'll be called "total synergistics" or "dual wielding" or something equally freaking nerdy and I'm really excited about it. it will be slightly less dark than this one (thank goodness)
> 
> thanks for reading! and thanks to womenlovingwonderwoman for taking the time to edit this. <3
> 
> thanks for your comments as well--I really appreciate them. I'm going to stop responding b/c it started making me really anxious, but I do appreciate your positive feedback.


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